The Phantom Illusionist
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: When Erik's love for a baron's daughter is discovered, he is cast out. Years later, he returns as The Phantom, a famous masked magician. Fate will bring him and his beloved together again. Erik/OC, evil Christine. Follows The Illusionist film plot
1. A Twist of Fate

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything from _**The Illusionist**_ or _**Phantom**_, though I wish I did own Erik. Oh, well.

AN: Here we go, another Phantom story. I wonder when I'll run out of ideas for this genre? Hopefully never! Anyway, this probably won't be a long story, maybe ten chapters, but you never know; once I get inspired to write something, it's kind of hard to stop. Either way, no matter what the length, I hope that you all enjoy this and will review! Thanks!

**Chapter 1: A Twist of Fate**:

It's funny the way two individuals from different levels of society could meet and become as close to one another as two people could be.

Leah von Pressentin was born the daughter of a German baron and his pretty French wife, a lady of moderate class. She lived in a relatively small castle which was surrounded by a tiny German village, and the entire thing was surrounded by beautiful fields and farms. As it happened, her parents' marriage was a love match, though it was a good social one as well. The Baroness had brought a fair amount of French money with her, and with the Baron's good farmland to invest in, it was no wonder that, despite being small in estate, the von Pressentin family was relatively well-off.

To the relief of the townspeople, their Baron was a good man, and had been forced by his father to work for a year in the fields with the people so that he knew what it was to have to sweat for a good meal. Though he still thought himself above the commoners, he was fair when dispensing justice, did not overtax them when the time came, nor did he let anyone go hungry, even in the harshest winters.

And much to the joy of the people, the little Baroness Leah von Pressentin was promising to turn out just like her father.

She was like most little girls, in that she was sweet, happy, playful, and full of laughter about anything and everything she saw. She was not spoiled, for the most part, but if she insisted on having something, it was given to her, if not by her indulgent mother, than by her amused father. Thankfully, Leah did not desire much, and thanks to the forgetful mind of a child, whatever it was she wanted was usually forgotten within a few days. This kept her from being too much the spoiled, unpleasant child, and saved her parents a fortune in abandoned toys.

Also, her governess, Madame Antoinette Giry, who had come with the Baroness from France, made sure to keep her charge in line. She taught the little girl that people were not game pieces to be played with and tossed aside when finished. Respect, she said, was to be earned, and that it was through a mixture of kindness and firmness that a lady received it.

Thanks to the teachings of her nurse and her parents, Leah was growing up to be the fair, kind young girl that the townspeople liked, and whom the servants didn't mind waiting on. Watching her grow, they all hoped that she wedded a man who was as good as she was, if she married at all.

The same, however, could not be said of her little friend and constant companion, Christine Harran…

* * *

Glancing over to my left, I tried not to sigh as Christine brushed her hair for the third time today. She was my friend and playmate, the daughter of Gustave Harran, an extremely minor German aristocrat.

I liked Sir Harran, who was a neighbor of ours, and childhood friend of Papa's. Sadly, there was no Lady Harran, because she had died when Christine was a baby. Thus, when I was five-years-old, Papa, feeling great pity for his friend, had written to Sir Harran and asked if Christine could come and be a friend and companion for me. Since she was just my age, she would be taught by my governess, Madame Giry – who was great fun, though still a bit stiff at times – and we would do much of the same things together, such as riding, drawing, and embroidery. I had looked forward to having Christine here, imagining that we would be as close friends as our fathers.

And so we were, at least at first.

Christine was a very pretty girl, with chocolate curls and blue eyes, and was much fussed over by her nurses. When our fathers introduced us the day she was to join me at the castle as my companion, Christine had said she liked my straight brown hair and dark brown eyes. I thought that rather nice of her to say, and we became good friends after that, always together as we practiced our dancing, rode our ponies together through the fields, and learned our lessons with Madame Giry.

Lately, however, she had become rather vain. Since we shared a large dressing room with matching vanities, I often had to sit for hours and listen to her hum as she brushed out her hair. I thought girls weren't supposed to fuss over hair until they were older, but at age nine, Christine seemed to want to stay ahead on that sort of thing.

I suppose I should say that she was still a decent person in spite of her vanity. Christine was sweet, amusing, and always willing to help me whenever I needed it, and I counted her a good friend. I thought it terrible that one day she would have to leave me when her education was completed, or when her father announced her engagement to a wealthy gentle- or nobleman. That was also what our lessons were for: to find us husbands, or so some of my maids said.

"But don't worry, dear," quipped my personal serving maid, Lisa. "You'll find a wonderful man to marry, and I've no doubt you'll do it for love." She peeked over in Christine's direction and muttered, "Unlike some."

Later, Madame Giry would tell me that Sir Harran wanted his daughter to wed for money rather than love. "Christine's family is of less wealth and status than yours, my dearest girl, and so she must wed for money if she is to be taken care of."

She caressed my face and gave me an affectionate smile, the sort an aunt gives to her favorite niece. "You need not worry about that. I've no doubt your father will leave you everything when he dies, and that you will make good use of it, whether you marry or not."

However, today was not for unpleasant thoughts of the future, nor for Christine to overly fuss about her hair. My bodyguard and friend, Nadir Kahn, had heard there was a fair in town, and I dearly wanted to see it, but with Christine acting as she was over her hair, I was growing impatient.

"Are you still not ready? You've been at it nearly all morning," Nadir teased after knocking on the door.

I gave a joyous cry and threw myself at him, squealing as he picked me up and threw me high in the air. He wasn't supposed to do that, since Mother didn't like it, but I didn't mind.

My guard and protection, Nadir, was from Persia, and had come through Germany with a trade caravan, demonstrating his skills with a sword and a pistol to earn extra money. When Papa saw how good he was, he hired Nadir as a protector for me, and the offer had been accepted. Now I had two very special friends who were almost family: Madame Giry and Nadir. I always thought it funny that they always fought about what they thought was best for me, and their fights became snippy arguments that lasted until they walked off in opposite directions, muttering and huffing under their breath.

"Are you ready, little one?" he asked, tickling me with his scruffy beard.

I giggled. "Yes, but I'm waiting for Christine."

"Come along, Miss Harran," he called while leading me out the door, "or else we will go without you, and then you won't get any treats or toys from town."

Always eager for more treasures, Christine immediately dropped her brush and ran to catch up with us. Happy that we were on our way, I put my little hand in Nadir's and began to skip my way out the door.

* * *

Normally gypsies were not allowed on Papa's land, but since it had been a good harvest year, he had decided to be forgiving and allow this one bit of entertainment into the town, if only for today. I was allowed to go, but only because I had Nadir for protection, and Madame Giry as well, who was armed with a purse of money to purchase food and treats for me and Christine.

Since our arrival at the makeshift fair, we had seen men breathing fire, men and women performing great balancing acts, and wonderful exotic animals that paced around their large cages. Christine and I had stuffed ourselves at a local pastry shop, and I carried a small box of fluffy puff-pastries filled with cream for later. Thanks to the excitement and too much food, I was about to ask to return to the castle when Christine gave a cry, pleading to go inside one tent in particular.

"The Devil's Child," Nadir murmured. "I don't like the thought of taking little Leah in there."

Christine glared at him. "Don't be silly," she snapped, hands on her hips. "It looks fascinating, and I want to go in!"

Perhaps it is good to mention that since her arrival at the castle, Christine had grown accustomed to having her own way.

And so, knowing that it would be best to prevent a tantrum now than later, I sighed. "Alright, let's go in."

I saw Madame Giry scowl, but she said nothing as she took the pastries from me and nodded at Nadir, who took my hand and led me inside. Christine was already halfway in the doorway.

The tent was dark, and to my horror, there was a cage there that held not an animal, but a teenage boy. Even at nine years of age, I knew that people, even slaves, did not belong in a cage! What was worse was that there was a gypsy man beating the poor boy, causing him to cry out in pain and fear.

I pulled my hand out of Nadir's, clamping it over my mouth as I began to weep. "Oh, no!" I gasped. "Nadir, stop him. Please stop him!"

Without hesitating, he strode forward, pulled open the unlocked cage door and grabbed the gypsy by the arm, preventing him from doing any more damage. I watched as the gypsy grew angry and whirled around, ready to strike at whoever was holding him. But when he saw Nadir standing there, tall, strong, and angry, he stopped and looked around.

Small, rat-like eyes bulged out from behind scraggly black hair and a black beard, taking in the fine white dresses Christine and I wore, and Madame Giry's dark purple gown. Immediately erasing all signs of anger from his face, the gypsy put on a whimpering, fawning mask and bowed to us.

"Sorry about that, young missus," he said. "I'm afraid that this boy here, the Devil's Child, must be kept in line, otherwise he's capable of all sorts of evil."

My eyes filled with tears of anger and of sadness. The boy didn't look evil, even though he had a bag over his head to keep him hidden. I gasped when the covered head turned towards me and two bright green eyes stared out, pleading for help.

"Let him go," I said, drawing myself up.

The gypsy looked amused. "And why would I do that?" he asked arrogantly.

I put on my most haughty and noble face. "I am the daughter of Baron von Pressentin, whose lands you are on, and I demand that the boy be set free."

Now the man looked nervous, knowing that I could lawfully expel his troupe from the town, thereby robbing them of the money they hoped to gain. "Please forgive me, miss, but I can't just let him go. I paid a good sum for him, and I'll loose a great deal more if I just let him go."

Turning towards my governess, I looked up into her eyes. "Pay him," I ordered. "Everything in the pouch, Madame, if you please."

"Mistress, it is none of your concern," Madame whispered to me in an urgent tone.

I glared at her. "It _is_ my concern when someone on my lands is suffering. And I said to pay him," I commanded firmly.

With a heavy sigh, Madame pulled out the pouch of money and tossed it at the man. "Now let the boy go," she said in her most forceful tone. Not even I dared go against that voice.

The gypsy greedily began counting the sum as Nadir reached down and offered the boy a hand. Fearing that he might react poorly, I grabbed the box of pastries from Madame and ran forward, opening it to show him the contents.

"Would you like one?" I asked, watching as he eyed the pastries the same way the gypsy was now looking at his money.

Hesitant, the boy slowly slipped out of the cage and approached me. Nadir stiffened, but did not move just yet; --if he had to, he could strike with the speed of a serpent, but for now, he merely waited to see what the boy would do.

Not moving an inch, I watched as a dirty hand reached out and took a pastry, slowly raising the lower half of the sack so that he could eat it. Crust, cream, and powdered sugar vanished under the sack and into his mouth, bits and pieces falling to the floor as I smiled in satisfaction.

"Now, shall we go?" I asked him. "We'll go up to the castle, and then Nadir can help you get a nice hot bath. Once you're clean, he'll treat your wounds, and then we will see."

The boy merely stared at me in surprise. I giggled and motioned for him to follow. Since Nadir put his hand on the boy's shoulder, he had no choice but to obey.

* * *

"I hope that there will not be anymore outbursts like these in the future, Leah," Papa said as he looked down at me from his chair. "You can't just buy people like you would a toy in the marketplace."

Mama clicked her tongue and shook her head. "And all that money, gone in a flash," she sighed. "Christine is very upset about that, but I suppose it is because she wanted a new doll or something to play with. I'm sure her father will send her one later this month for her birthday, so there will probably be no anger towards you on her behalf."

Looking down at the floor, I knew that this lecture was only for show. Papa looked rather pleased with me, and Mama did as well, so I knew I wasn't in trouble. Well, perhaps my allowance might be cut to repay the spent money, but that did not matter; it was money well-spent.

"No, go downstairs and find out how our new guest is faring," Papa said. "Find out if he can read and write, but if not, have Madame Giry teach him."

Oh, she was not going to like that at all. Oh, well.

Mama was speaking now. "And if he has any skills, we shall have to find him a master to take him on as an apprentice so that he might make his living in the future."

"But first, you must find out his name," Papa said, just before sending me off with a swift smack on the rump.

* * *

Brushing out her hair, Christine Harran frowned with all the anger of a nine-year-old could hold. She was angry that she had been cheated out of a day of food, treats, and toys, all of which had been promised by them going to the fair today. Instead, they had nothing but a strange boy with a twisted face bathing downstairs in the servant's quarters.

'_Oh, well, Papa will send me something soon, so that's alright_.' He always sent her a new toy or trinket every month or so, usually right before he visited for a few days.

No, what was so very upsetting was how Leah had managed to get what she wanted today by using her position and title. Christine knew that Leah was higher than her, far higher, according to her father, and that made for quite a bit of jealousy on Christine's part. She wanted to be able to order someone to do something and have it obeyed without question, just like Leah had.

Although Christine was the daughter of a very minor aristocrat, she had no power within the von Pressentin castle, and she knew it. The servants mostly did as she ordered because Leah was usually there, and if their orders weren't carried out, she would scowl at them for being disobedient. If she ordered anything contrary to Leah's, the servants would take their mistress's side, as was expected.

And despite her young age, Christine also knew her place in society was minimal as well. Her father was only _Sir_ Harran, and barely had enough land to sustain himself and his family. Leah's father was a full Baron with great estates and a good deal of money. Christine was nothing to Leah, had no dowry like hers, and had only her beauty to fall on for a good marriage.

'_That is why beauty is everything_,' she thought, brushing her hair and watching the curls spring back into place. '_It will get me money for me and for Papa, and will find me a good husband. My future depends on it_.'

One day, she would be a great lady in the courts of France or Germany. Perhaps she would even outrank Leah von Pressentin, and wouldn't that be a grand thing?

* * *

Wiping the last milk droplets from his lips, Erik, also known as the Devil's Child, tried to understand how his life could be turned upside down like this. He'd had his first bath in who-knows-how-long, and not only that, but his wounds were tended to as well. The ointment used on his back had stung, but that was because they were disinfecting the marks made by the damn gypsy's whip.

"Finished?" asked the tall gentleman who had been assigned to watch him.

'_Nadir_,' Erik recalled. '_The man's name is Nadir_.'

Pushing aside the empty plate and cup, Erik nodded. It had been his first hot meal in ages, and the milk had been divine. In the past, only crusts of bread, hard or spoiled cheese, and half-rotten fruits and vegetables had made his meals; milk could only be had when one of the camp's goats wandered too close to the cage and he had managed to milk it into his hand or suck on the udder for nourishment.

Today, he'd had not only a delicious, light pastry with cream and powdered sugar on it, but once he'd had his bath, Erik had been given a plate with hot roasted meat, potatoes slathered in gravy, some cooked vegetables that were _not_ rotting, and a glass of rich cow's milk. He had eaten it slowly so that it would not come back up again, and had savored every bite. It was a pity there hadn't been bread; he'd have loved to soak up that gravy with a crust and eaten it. Still, it'd been heaven.

"Yes, I'm finished."

The Persian, for that's what he was, snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. Erik tried not to smile. He'd seen Persians before in his sixteen years of life, though this was the first time he'd seen one in Germany. It was a very odd sight.

"Oh, good, you've eaten and washed!" said a cheerful voice. He turned around. It was the same girl who had saved him just this afternoon.

She was a pretty little thing, brown hair combed neatly up and tied with a ribbon, her white dress perfectly pressed and neat, the ends bearing lengths of floating lace. Best of all, her smile was probably the sweetest thing Erik had seen for a long time; few people ever smiled in such a way at the Devil's Child.

"My name is Leah von Pressentin," she said with a polite curtsey. "What's yours?"

He swallowed. "My name is Erik," he whispered. "I have no other."

She nodded as though it made sense and took a chair near his, sparkling brown eyes studying him intensely. Then he realized why; he had forgotten to put the sack back on his face! Turning sharply away, Erik put a hand on top of the right side, praying that she would not ask for her guard to strike him down for looking so horrible.

He was shocked when a small hand gently tried to pull his hand down. "You don't need to hide," whispered the girl, Leah. "It's alright. If you want, we can make you a new mask, but only if you ask for it. It doesn't look that bad."

Turning green eyes towards her, Erik saw she was sincere and put down his hand. "You are not frightened?" he whispered. "Everyone is frightened of me."

She shook her head. "It does look different, but I am not scared."

A few moments of awkward silence passed, and finally, Erik asked the question that had been puzzling him for hours. "Why did you save me?"

Leah gave him a kind smile. "Because no one deserves to be treated that way, unless they are very bad." She tilted her head to the side. "Are you a very bad person?"

No, he didn't think he was, and said so. Leah nodded. "Good. Because Mama and Papa want to help you, and if you were a bad person, I would feel very sorry about disappointing them like that."

Almost against his will, Erik found himself smiling. Perhaps life here would not be so bad if he were to have a friend such as her.

* * *

AN: Well, what did you think? More fun will be had, and there will probably be longer chapters, too, because I want to finish this story quickly. Please let me know what you thought and review! Thanks!


	2. Time Passes So Quickly

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the film _**The Illusionist**_ or anything _**Phantom**_ related (which really bums me out). Only original characters are mine.

AN: Some romance in this chapter, which will probably make people very happy. Please enjoy yourselves, and review. Thanks!

**Chapter 2: Time Passes So Quickly**:

I was as surprised as anyone when Erik began displaying signs of genius potential. The reason no one had noticed his intelligence before, I believed, was because he had been locked in a cage most of his life, and given nothing to occupy his hands. Now that he was free, Erik's mind began to soar, and from his mind came the most beautiful and unusual things.

It all started so innocently with a trip to the cabinetmaker's house. Mama wanted something very special for her room, and since I already knew what it was she wanted, she sent me with Madame Giry to order it crafted just for her. Since I loved the smell of carved wood, and Madame had promised me a treat at the pastry shop for my reward, I was happy to oblige.

When Erik heard that I was going, he asked to come along, claiming that he did not feel comfortable being in the castle when I was not there. I knew this to be partially true, as most of the servants avoided him because of the strange deformity on the right side of his face.

In my opinion, his face wasn't really that bad. Yes, the skin was red, and just a bit lumpy, with the skin peeling off in places, but it wasn't terrible. Perhaps it was because, whenever Erik was focused on something or someone, those green eyes of his seemed to see right through whomever or whatever it was he was looking at, and that made people even more uncomfortable around him.

Since I did not want to leave my new friend alone, I allowed him to come, though Madame Giry did not like it. Nadir, who never left my side, thought it a good idea and said it might do Erik some good to see a master craftsman at work.

"Who knows, perhaps the young man might feel a calling towards carpentry and decide to make his apprenticeship with the cabinetmaker," he said, winking discreetly at me.

Madame simply rolled her eyes and gave in.

We had been at the shop many times before in the past, and thus knew the master cabinetmaker, Ulrich, quite well. He designed and made many of the items used by my family in our quarters, and some of the things in the guest rooms for important visitors. Papa usually sent a servant with drawings for new pieces to Master Ulrich, but Mama had no hand for drawing, especially when it came to what she wanted in furniture. Thus, it was up to me to make Mama happy, and I took the responsibility very seriously.

As Madame and I talked with Master Ulrich about Mama's order, Erik was allowed to walk around the worktables and look at the tools, but was not to touch any of the pieces sitting there. However, he was permitted to look at the many unused woods sitting around on the selves. There were several different kinds of wood, and I had expected Erik to become bored within moments.

To everyone's surprise, by the time the matter of my mother's new tea table was settled and paid for, we discovered that Erik had begun crafting something from a small wooden block. It was in the shape of a woman in what appeared to be a flowing gown, and was no bigger than my index finger. Carved from the most pale wood, it was quite pretty and very simple.

Stepping up to stand beside Erik's hunched over form, I tried to get a closer look without disturbing him. "What is it?" I breathed, watching as he used a tiny tool to make finer lines in the gown.

He turned his head and smiled a little at me. "It is you," he whispered, holding it up.

I giggled at the blank face of the figure. "It looks nothing like me," I playfully told him.

Now it was his turn to laugh. "It will, given time. Just be patient."

Madame Giry cleared her throat. "Well, it appears that we have found Erik's calling," she said. "Apparently it is carpentry."

Surprisingly, Erik shook his head. "No, I am not interested in making woodcarving my life's work. I merely thought to do something to occupy my mind while you bartered with one another, and this was it."

"Then we will simply have to find something else," I said determinedly.

For weeks we went into town, Erik, Madame, Nadir and I, trying to find out what trade Erik was suited to. We went to the clockmaker, the pastry shop, the sculptor that lived at the castle and the more modest one in town. We even approached a visiting painter who was in town. Erik was interested in all of them, but not enough to choose one as his life's craft.

One night, as we sat together in the little schoolroom where we received our lessons, I tried to persuade Erik to pick a craft to master. "You must choose something," I pleaded to him. "I can't bear the thought of you being penniless and without a livelihood of your own."

Erik looked at me, apparently more concerned about me and my own worrying for him than for himself. "Do you wish for me to become something I have no desire to be?" he asked.

I sighed. "No, I don't, but you must decide what you are to be if you are to provide food and shelter for yourself."

He looked away. "Do you wish me to go?"

"No!" I cried, horrified at the thought of having hurt him. "But…you are sixteen years old. Most young men have already been an apprentice for several years by now, and I want you to be well-off in life. I don't want you suffering and unhappy."

"I will think about it," was all he said.

Several more weeks passed, and Erik began to lock himself away in his room most days, only emerging to eat and whenever I knocked on the door, begging for him to come out and see me. I think he did it because he felt obliged to, as I was his 'liberator,' but I could have been wrong.

Finally, Papa himself grew curious as to what was going on inside of Erik's room, so one day, he came down to the servants' quarters and knocked, demanding entry. Since he could not argue with the master of the castle, Erik was forced to admit him, as well as myself, who had come to keep my father company.

What we saw inside the small room was astounding.

The space was barely large enough for a bed, a wardrobe, a desk, a chair, and a small trunk, but every surface was covered in either artwork, carved wooden figures or designs for odd machines. To everyone's interest, on the desk was an old music box that had been taken apart and pieced together in an entirely different fashion, creating a whole new music box that made the elegantly crafted dancer on top of it spin to a pretty song.

To me, it was all amazing and beautiful. Papa knew it for what it was: genius.

From that day forward, Erik was allowed a much larger suite of rooms inside the castle in order to make his crafts. Soon there wasn't a person or room in the entire castle that didn't have one of his pieces, whether it was a fantastic mechanical bird that could sing (in my mother's room), or a simple collection of beautiful earrings carved from wood (for the servant girls).

But the best piece of all was the locket Erik made just for me. It was made from lovely white pine, and he had carved and inlaid cherry wood into it, creating a red rose on a pale background. It was a bit larger than a thimble, and he had made it so that if I pressed the right combination of petals in the rose, the locket would open and reveal a painted portrait of him, unmasked.

Erik gave it to me six months after my rescue of him, and when he had shown me its secret, I exclaimed in delight, praising him endlessly until he blushed and told me it was nothing. I simply smiled and kissed him soundly on the cheek, just before telling him that he was brilliant and should not underestimate his talents.

After that, many wonderful things began appearing in my rooms, almost, it seemed, by magic. For the entire month following my tenth birthday, wooden roses began to appear on my dressing table, one every day for thirty days. Each rose was different in color, and made of such thin slices of wood that you could almost see through them in the sun's light. They were also scented with the fragrance of the trees they had been cut from, and I loved bending over the bouquet and smelling a forest right there in my room.

A few other things made their way into my room as well. Over time, two carefully crafted music boxes of wood or porcelain, both featuring little figurines of the same materials, decorated my vanity. Then, one Christmas, Erik had found a pretty green stone the color of his eyes and put it into a silver bracelet for me. I wore it every day, just as I did the locket.

As the years passed, I began to realize something rather sad: I was Erik's only friend.

Whenever the castle servants saw him, they drew away into the corner to avoid him, frightened of the stark white porcelain mask he wore. They also found his intelligence intimidating, and more than a few felt he was "above them," since he had become a favorite of Mama and Papa's.

Madame Giry, while a close friend to me, remained stoic and distant, playing the roll of teacher and tutor to him, but no more than that. She would answer any question he put to her about letters, numbers, mathematics, or any other educational subject, but would not spend any more time with him than she deemed necessary.

Nadir was much the same way; he would protect Erik whenever it was needed, but he would never become friends with him like he did with me. And now that Erik was well-fed and growing much stronger, he was able to defend himself and no longer required Nadir's presence.

Christine, who was very much disgusted by him, kept her distance by hiding in her rooms whenever possible, and often complained to anyone who would listen of how odd he was in manner and looks. She also took great pleasure in lecturing him on his crude manners and laughing at his missing past.

Mama and Papa, of course, could not lower themselves to become close to Erik, though they were happy to pay for his magnificent creations and keep him housed and fed in the castle. They did not wish for me to be his friend, either, but since I had been the one to free him, they thought it only right that I at least associate with him.

And associate I did. The days that I could pry him away from his tools, materials, and plans for future works, I considered it a great accomplishment. I began to ask Erik to come riding with me, and then found that I had to help him learn to ride in the first place. He was quite good at it, and had a certain way with horses that made even the hostlers jealous. I was quite proud of Erik the day that he was able to jump his horse over a log and not fall out of his saddle.

To our great disappointment, Papa soon put a stop to our rides together, saying that it was not appropriate for me to ride with someone so far below my station, and that I must grow up into a proper lady. I, however, did not wish to be a lady, and began sneaking out of my chambers whenever I could, making my way to Erik's rooms, which were a floor below mine. Thanks to a hidden servant's stairway, I always made my way there without being seen.

And it was in Erik's room that a certain magical thing began to happen…

* * *

To Erik, it had happened so suddenly, and yet so gradually, that it was hard to place the exact moment he had begun to feel that way about her. Not when she was a child, surely, but then, she had never been an ordinary little girl. Her kindness and intelligence always seemed to surpass her years.

The first time he had noticed this was when she had begun sneaking to his rooms after the lights were out. He had completed yet another musical box for the Baroness (which would be a gift for her sister), and had just finished setting the lid in place when a knock sounded from the servant's stair. Thinking that one of the maids had forgotten to dust something, he called for them to enter.

He did not expect Leah to flip the door open and step inside, a broad grin on her face when she saw him working. With a laugh, Erik set aside his work and beckoned her over.

"You do realize that if you are caught, you will be in great trouble," he said with a smirk.

She merely shrugged and took a seat in a nearby chair. "Then it is a good thing they will not find me, isn't it?"

That was the beginning of their late-night meetings. They would spend hours together, talking about everything and nothing. Erik found himself babbling on about his creations, to which Leah listened to with great interest and patience, something he never thought to see in a young girl. When he began to think he was boring her, he decided to try something different on her next visit.

Having learned a great deal from watching and listening to the gypsy magicians in the caravan, Erik had become skilled in most of their magic tricks, mostly by memorizing what they did and trying them in his cage. True, he hadn't been able to do many of the tricks without the props involved, but some he was able to passably copy with what he had around him at the time. Now that he was free, however, there was so much more he could do.

In an effort to entertain his young friend for an evening, Erik had decided to put on a private magic show just for her. To her delight, he made things vanish and reappear, pulling a few coins and rubber balls out of her ears or from her own pockets. Occasionally, he made one of the toys he made dance or fly about the room, making her laugh and declare her admiration for him and his skill.

That was something Erik never thought to experience: someone admiring him and his abilities to the point where they believed him capable of anything. Leah had given him not only that, but also the freedom to be something more than a despised Devil's Child. An inventor and creator of lovely things in a Baron's castle –who would have thought that possible for him?

For several years after this, Erik performed the tricks he had learned and those he had created of his own genius, drinking in Leah's admiration, amazement, joy, laughter, and friendship. But slowly, he began to want something more from her. Unfortunately, he did not know what that was…at least until Leah's fifteenth birthday.

It had was a light affair, with several aristocratic young ladies from neighboring cities attending the guest of honor, just as ladies-in-waiting did to a queen. Even though they were all dressed in glowing white dresses, it was clear that Leah wore the best gown, and since it was her party, she wore several a crown of white rosebuds in her hair.

There were a few young men as well, and Erik, who watched the party from his window, had immediately grown jealous, knowing those boys were here only as potential marriages for the young Baroness von Pressentin. Each of the male attendants fawned over Leah and her friends, doing their best to forge possible alliances between one noble house and another.

An elegant luncheon and dinner had been served that day, as well as a glorious cake with delicate white frosting. Gifts had been given and received, music had been played by a small orchestra, and through it all, Leah had laughed, danced, smiled, and enjoyed herself immensely. Did Erik miss not being invited to the party? No, why should he, especially when he had a magnificent view of the one person he cared about most? He was happy that she was happy, and was content with that.

Then, that night, after she came to his rooms still dressed in her beautiful white silk gown, Erik realized he loved her.

For the rest of that night's visit, Erik tried to convince himself otherwise. It was a brotherly love, he tried repeating inside his head. She was a sister to him, the little girl who had saved him from life in a cage, from beatings falling on his head night and day, and from possible starvation. Leah was just a dear friend.

Besides, he was at least seven years older than her.

And yet, when she smiled at him and begged for a magic trick, something new for her birthday, he knew what he felt was not a brother's love. Somehow, he had fallen in love with the young woman before him, who smiled so happily at the mere sight of him, and who risked a great deal by sneaking into his private rooms at night to talk, laugh, and be merry.

With great restraint, Erik performed his trick, pulling a chain of roses from his closed fist, much to Leah's delight, and sent her away with them, wishing that he could act on his feelings. He dared not, fearing that his love would not be returned. That sort of rejection he could not live with.

But as fate would have it, he need not have feared for his own heart. One night, he found his feelings for the sweet young Baroness were, in fact, returned.

It had been another evening together. Tonight, Leah sat close beside him, watching him work on yet another commission from her mother, this time a small clock with tiny dancing figures. She came closer to his shoulder, which was not strange; she always leaned close when something interested her or she wanted to know more about what he was doing.

Thinking she wanted another explanation on what he was doing, Erik turned his head, and went stiff with surprise when his lips met hers.

For a moment, time seemed to stop, and all he could feel was the warmth of her mouth, smell the scent of her light perfume, and believe – for a brief moment – that she loved him.

When they separated, he looked into her soft, kind brown eyes and saw the emotions he felt reflected there.

And then he smiled.

* * *

It took a great deal of effort to keep their love a secret. The Baron and Baroness would never approve of such a thing between their daughter and her foundling, and Leah feared what they might do.

"I could not bear it if you were beaten and jailed," she confessed to him one night as he held her close, the two of them seated cozily by his fireplace. "Papa would be so angry, I don't know what he would do to you."

At night, the two of them secretly met in his rooms, even though it was improper for them to do so. Erik, however, didn't care; why should he, when breaking the rules of society allowed him to see the young woman he loved each and every night, holding her in his arms and kissing her so sweetly as he did? And when the reward for this was the return of his kisses and the touch of Leah's gentle hands on his bare face, it was worth all the risk in the world.

Then, after so many nights of being careful, they were caught.

Sitting together on a thick carpet before the fireplace, Erik had just pulled her in for a kiss when the door burst open, revealing a furious Nadir and a scandalized Madame Giry. Before they could move, Nadir stepped forward and pulled Leah to her feet, dragging her out the door even as she tried to reach back for him.

Desperate to help her, Erik tried to follow, but was stopped by the cold, stony glare of his former teacher. Those grey eyes of hers had always intimidated him, and now they were the only thing preventing him from getting to his love.

"You will never see her again," Madame stated in a firm voice. "Are you mad? She is nobility, and you are far below her station, a former slave in a gypsy camp! She will marry a nobleman with great titles, great wealth, or both. What makes you think you can woo and marry a girl such as her?"

Erik clenched his fists. "It doesn't matter what my station in life is. She loves me for who I am."

"You seduced her!" Madame hissed. "She is fifteen years old, and though she is advanced for her age, she is still a young girl and you are a man over twenty!"

"I love her!" he growled.

She slapped him. "You will never say that again. Tonight, you will pack your belongings, take what money you have, and leave just before the sun rises, never to return. Count yourself fortunate that the Baron and Baroness will never find out about this, or they would have you killed. Now pack your things. You will not see her again."

With that, Madame Giry turned and left, shutting the door behind her and leaving him alone to gather his most precious possessions before the dawn came.

* * *

Later, even as he walked away from the von Pressentin castle, Erik looked back. "I will return to you, my angel," he whispered to the wind. "When I have the wealth and power to do so, I will come back and marry you. This I swear."

* * *

AN: Just like in _**The Illusionist**_ plotline, a good fast-forward occurs between now and chapter three. In the meantime, I hope everyone is enjoying themselves and will review! Thanks!


	3. Ten Years Later

Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing related to _**The Phantom of the Opera**_ or _**The Illusionist**_. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Christine is going to be very spoiled, selfish, and nasty in this story, so consider yourself warned if you are a Christine fan. Oh, and the magic trick used can be seen in the movie _**The Illusionist**_. It was very fun to watch. Hope you enjoy and will review! Thanks!

**Chapter 3: Ten Years Later:**

"I think it would be a very good thing for you to keep up the friendship," Mama gently suggested, setting aside the letter she held. "They were friends for such a long time, and perhaps being in Paris would be good for her."

Papa frowned and looked over at her. "I do not think you have considered the whole matter, my dear," he said. "Christine is no longer the little girl we once knew. She is grown now, and is married with a large house of her own to run. How can we be sure that she will pay the proper attention to our Leah?"

Mother waved his words aside. "She has been well-taught in such things," she said. "Besides, she is now a Vicomptess, a higher status than I thought she would be, and fulfilling her request would do wonders for Leah's future."

I tried not to sigh and instead looked out the window.

Earlier today, a note had arrived from Paris. It was from my former playmate, Christine Harran, now Christine de Chagny. She had married over six years ago, at the age of twenty, to Vicompt Raoul de Chagny of France. It had been an arranged marriage, and was the proud product of Christine's father's efforts to find his daughter a rich, handsome young man who could provide well for her.

As far as I knew, the de Chagny family was very wealthy, and I could not understand why they would marry off their son to the daughter of a man who barely counted as an aristocrat. However, when I really thought about it, I realized that it was not Christine's fortune that had gotten her such a good marriage, but actually her beauty.

Until we were both at the age of eighteen, Christine and I had spent most of our time together. Madame Giry taught us our lessons in decorum, dress, and all other intellectual matters, and made sure that we knew how to conduct ourselves in public and private. We two girls practiced sewing, horseback riding, dancing, and drawing in each other's company, and were relatively happy with that arrangement.

But as the years passed, we slowly grew apart, mostly due to Christine's dream. She was determined to wed someone who could adore her and admire her beauty, such as her soft chestnut curls, sparkling blue eyes, and flawless porcelain skin. She was also slender and rather tall for a woman, but that only made her graceful instead of awkward. At the age of eighteen, it was with these tools and a focused mind that she left my father's house in order to return to her own, a well-bred lady who had been educated and raised in a good style.

Sir Gustave Harran, her father, welcomed her back with open arms and a grand party in her honor (or so it was said amongst our servants, who often gossiped with those at the Harran residence). And at that party was the Count and Countess de Chagny and their youngest son, Raoul.

Before six months were gone, Sir Harran had arranged a marriage for his daughter to the Vicompt, who had fallen in love with Christine the moment they'd met. Though she had little money for a dowry, the Count and Countess were so impressed with Christine's manners, grace and beauty that they decided to put aside the financial matters and allow their son to marry her. After all, money wasn't much of a concern for them, since their wealth was so vast, and a beautiful wife could often be as important as her dowry.

When Christine was barely twenty, an invitation arrived for their wedding, and was accepted. Mama accompanied me there. From where I was seated, I listened as Mama whispered that it was no wonder the de Chagny family approved of the marriage, especially since Christine looked like an angel standing before the priest.

"Mark my words, Leah, when I say that beautiful children from a beautiful bride is sometimes more important than money," she said softly. "If your children are attractive, that will only make them marry faster and higher in society and wealth."

So there it was. Christine married into the French nobility and went off to live in Paris, leaving me in the peace and quiet of the German countryside. Not that I minded, of course; I did not wish to have the same sort of marriage as my former playmate, one that was only based on looks and money. No, the marriage I longed for most was gone, disappeared just after my sixteenth birthday. I wanted no one other than him by my side.

Sadly, the peace did not last as long as I'd liked. Soon I began receiving frequent letter from France, all of them in Christine's writing, telling me how wonderfully happy she was in her new life. I quickly became tired of hearing how lovely her home was, what she had just purchased on her most recent shopping trips, and that she was to attend yet another party soon. It was all very dull, and I tried to reply as politely as I could while silently praying that she would stop writing to boast about her new life and marriage. Sadly, they did not stop, and I forced myself to write back, if only to be polite.

And now here was another letter, this one asking me to go to Paris and keep Christine company while her husband was out of town on business. I had been invited several times before, but always refused. I did not want to leave the comfort of my home nor the warmth and love of my family, just to sit and fuss over a woman I hadn't seen in six years, who had no doubt changed since we'd last met.

It was a pity Mama had other ideas.

Knowing I would later regret this, I sighed. "Very well, Mother, I will go to Paris," I said. "Will I need new clothes, do you think?"

Mama's face lit up at that. "Oh, yes, my dearest, we must get you new things. I cannot have you walking about Paris in those out-of-style dresses."

As she continued to talk about what I would need to buy and take on my visit, I exchanged glances with Papa. He gave me a sympathetic look, knowing that I had merely given in to appease my mother; she would never allow a subject to rest if she could help it.

Glancing down at my hands, I prayed that my stay in Paris would not have to be that long.

* * *

"Oh, no, Leah, you cannot wear that gown!" Christine admonished me as she took the dress from my hands and tossed it to a waiting maid. "That would go horribly with mine, and we must not clash that way."

I bit back an angry retort and simply held my tongue between my teeth. I had been in Paris for little more than a week, and already I wanted to return home to my parents. Even Madame Giry in her worst mood would be preferable to this.

Expecting a warm welcome from an old friend, I received the shock of my life upon reaching the large de Chagny house. Instead of being greeted as equals, the moment we were seated in the parlor, Christine declared that she wished for me to attend her and keep her company while Raoul was away.

"He is often out of town or out of the country on business, you see, and I can be rather lonesome at times," she said while we sipped our tea. "I want you to stay here and be a constant companion to me whenever I go out."

So there it was. I was not here as a friend, but rather an attendant to someone who had once done the same for me. It was rather ironic, really, and I thought it rather petty on Christine's part, but dared not protest. After all, I was here as a foreigner, and if I were to be thrown out of her house, I had no where to go. The money Papa had given me was minimal, and would not be enough to put me up in a hotel for very long, which I would have to do while trying to find a way back home. I was at the mercy of Christine, and dared not anger her for risk of shaming me or my family in the process.

Reaching out to accept the gown she had chosen for me, I made a note to write home and ask for the money to return home as soon as possible. Papa would not refuse me, not after he read my letter and learned what Christine's invitation was really about. All I would have to do was bear it for another two weeks or so, and then I would be on my way home.

Once Christine was satisfied with how I was to dress, she left with a cheerful smile for her own room to ready herself. Alone at last, I pulled on the crème gown with a sigh of relief, thankful she was gone. Now dressed and corseted, I set myself before the vanity mirror and motioned for the maid do my hair.

"But no more of those awful styles you did yesterday," I told her. "I don't care what the Vicomptess wants, it is _my_ hair, and I will wear it as I see fit. Just put it up into the classic bun and make sure that the ends curl properly."

The maid nodded nervously and began to work. I kept a close eye on her as she combed, curled, brushed, and pinned up my straight brown locks. Yesterday, as I readied for a party we were to go to, I had discovered that Christine had ordered my maid to try and make my hair look as strange and foreign as possible, thereby making her look more elegant and French while making me look the silly foreigner. Thankfully, I had caught on quickly before I could be made a laughing stock of Paris.

"Where are we going tonight?" I asked the maid.

Already we had been to two parties and a ball, far more excitement than I usually saw back home. I much preferred the quiet of the castle, and dreamed of it often. Lately, the dreams resembled my memories of happier times, when a masked face often found mine and made me smile.

Raising my hand to my neck, I fingered the silver chain that held the wooden locket with the red rose carved into it. Christine had told me to take it off, saying it looked so crude that a lady should be ashamed of wearing it.

"You've been wearing it for years, Leah, ever since you were sixteen-years-old," she said. "You are no longer a child and must put on something more befitting your station."

I told her that it was from a childhood friend, and her eyes glinted in distain. "From that deformed boy, you mean," she guessed. "Leah, why would you want a remembrance of _him_ when you could have so many handsome noblemen at your feet?"

Christine then proceeded to tell me that I was not getting any younger, and that I should be focused on marrying and begetting children. Angry, I coldly told her that she understood nothing and left the room, not caring if she was angry at me in turn.

"It is the theater today, Mademoiselle," the maid stuttered out. "There is a grand illusionist there, newly arrived in Paris, and it is said that he possesses amazing powers."

Hmm, perhaps tonight would not be dull after all. Thus far, I had been subject to several dull evenings, but if this was an illusionist, it was bound to be amusing, even if he were terrible and his tricks obvious.

The maid leaned closer. "They say that he also wears a mask," she whispered before giggling and returning back to her work.

Oh, masked magicians were so commonplace these days, the men behind them wanting to keep their private and public identities a secret so that they would not have to beat off those trying to discover the secrets of their tricks. Or perhaps it was to fight off the more fanatical ones who wanted to see if the magician truly had magical powers or not.

Finally, my hair was done, and it was in a more fashionable and elegant style. I smiled at the idea of Christine having to live with my looking the proper Baron's daughter tonight.

Chuckling to myself, I took a shawl from the maid and went downstairs to the carriage.

* * *

For the entire ride to the theater, I heard a great deal more than I wanted to know about the illusionist we were going to see. Apparently Christine admired him and desired to see him more than any other performer on stage. She had even followed his work throughout the world by reading the local papers and listening to the gossip of her friends.

"He calls himself The Phantom," she chatted excitedly. "For some reason, he wears a mask over his face, and some say it is because he is so handsome, women would faint or weep at the sight of such beauty. Others say that he is terribly deformed, but how could that be when he looks so attractive with the mask?"

I listened as Christine babbled on and on about how talented, astounding, and brilliant this Phantom was. From the way she spoke, however, I knew that she had never seen him herself, or she would be gloating about it. Since she was not, I took it to mean that Christine merely longed for the experience of seeing the infamous magician and left it at that. Whether he lived up to his reputation or not was yet to be seen.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, we were both handed out of the carriage and joined the throng of audience members heading inside. An usher led us to our seats near the front along the aisle, and we seated ourselves just as the lights were dimming in the auditorium and the stage lights flared as the curtain went up.

Suddenly, there was movement, as though a shadow were walking forward on the stage to approach the audience. I watched breathlessly as the shadow seemed to shift, then vanished, revealing a man in black evening attire, a black cloak, and black mask covering the top half of his face.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said in the smoothest, most musical voice I had ever heard.

The audience burst into applause and he bowed. When he rose, a flock of ravens flew out from his cape, causing people to gasp, cry out, or openly stare in amazement. Applause sounded once the audience had recovered itself.

I watched in amusement and astonishment as The Phantom made objects float, fly, disappear in midair, or shrank them down to fit in the palm of his hand. There were many cries and exclamations of shock at what he was doing, but I found it a wonderful night of entertainment that had me eager for more of his tricks.

"And now I require a volunteer," The Phantom announced. "Anyone at all, male or female."

While I was content to remain where I was, Christine, it seemed, had other plans. She immediately waved at the illusionist, and once she had his attention, to my horror, she then motioned towards me.

"Christine, what are you doing?" I hissed subtly through the corner of my mouth.

"Oh, don't be prudish, Leah," she said with a smile. "A woman of my position in society cannot be seen up there, Raoul would never forgive me. You, however, are another story."

The Phantom bowed to me and held out his hand. "Mademoiselle, if you please?"

Forcing a small smile onto my lips, I stood and moved towards the steps leading up to the stage. One of the ushers was there to meet me, and handed me gently up to the top, where I proceeded to the side of the mysterious magician.

"Now, remain there, if you please," he said before motioning to someone offstage.

Three gentlemen immediately came forward, two with an easel and one with a canvas.

"May I position you accordingly?"

Not having a choice, I nodded and stood still as he slowly approached me, stopping merely a foot away. With an elegant movement, he wrapped his long fingers around my shoulders and directed me into place.

Looking up at his masked face, I felt my heart stop at the sight of dazzling green eyes, the likes of which I had not seen for over ten years.

"Erik?" I whispered in disbelief.

* * *

AN: Longer chapter next time, I promise! Please don't forget to review! Thanks!


	4. Memories of the Past

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the film _**The Illusionist**_ or anything _**Phantom**_ related (which really bums me out). Only original characters are mine.

AN: For those who don't know, I've branched out in the _**Batman**_ universe of fan fiction. You'll find my newest story on my bio page list of stories I've written or am working on, so if you're interested, feel free to check it out. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the chapter and will review. Thanks!

**Chapter 4: Memories of the Past:**

Staring down at the woman before him, Erik knew it had to be Leah. Those chocolate-brown orbs had been burned into his mind for more than a decade, and now here they were again, staring up at him in surprise and vague recognition.

"Erik?" she whispered, her voice so soft he struggled to hear it.

Trying to keep their discovery of one another a secret, he merely winked and backed away, taking her hand and escorting her to a place beside the easel. She understood his unspoken message and simply gave a polite and timid smile to him and the audience.

"Now, if you please, mademoiselle, I will paint your portrait," he said, posing his arms in the way a painter does when at work. Erik, however, had no paint or brushes at all, nor did he need them, for it was all part of the trick.

Leah stood perfectly still, that smile still on her lips, though he could clearly see an amused tremble in the corners. He bit back a laugh and continued with his performance, seeming to paint a portrait from nothing but air.

He finished with a flourish, backing away to show the audience the finished product. Many gasped at the fact that he'd painted it with no tools whatsoever, and remarked at the likeness, though it was merely a vague one if a person looked closely enough.

The secret behind this particular trick was that he always picked a woman with roughly the same facial features as the one in the pre-made portrait. What no one knew was that the influence behind the image was Leah herself; this way, he always kept a part of her close whenever he was performing.

And now, since it was truly Leah on stage and in the picture, the resemblance was closer than it had ever been before, and thus more effective. The audience loved it.

Bowing, Erik turned towards his volunteer and held out his hand. "Would you care to look?" he asked, hoping that she would.

He felt his heart flutter as she nodded and came forwards, setting her fingers into his offered palm as she moved forward to see the result. The surprised look on Leah's face as she gazed at the painting of herself was priceless.

"Oh, my," she whispered. Brown eyes looked up at him. "It's wonderful."

He smiled and bowed. "Merci, mademoiselle." Gently squeezing her hand, he murmured, "Where are you staying?"

She smiled and inclined her head, as though thanking him for including her in the performance. "With the Vicomptess de Chagny," she whispered back without moving her lips.

"Then I shall find you there."

Bowing once more, he led her to the usher standing by the stage, watching intensely as she went back to her seat. Letting his green eyes follow her from behind his mask, Erik saw her sit next to a woman who had to be Christine, her childhood friend and companion. He'd recognize that mass of curly brown hair anywhere, not to mention the cold blue eyes that had always looked at him with distain.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Erik approached the center of the stage, bowed, and disappeared in a puff of white smoke, much to the delight of the audience.

* * *

Once he was safely in the confines of his dressing room, Erik poured himself a glass of brandy, trying not to remember everything that had happened during the time he and Leah had spent apart.

But try as he might, he could not force back memories of the past ten years. Strange places, people, and incredible experiences raced through his mind. There were so many magicians he had visited and been tutored by, slowly mastering their skills to become a great illusionist. From the countries and continents he had visited, each had helped him become who he was now.

* * *

In Persia, there had been a magician who had once entertained the Shah, or ruler. Erik never learned the man's name, for his teacher had feared the Shah learning the secrets to his tricks, so the tutor had been called Master the entire time Erik had been with him.

From his Persian master (who reminded Erik strongly of Nadir, Leah's bodyguard), he had learned a fantastic sword trick. This involved sticking a person in a box and plunging two or three swords into the box without injuring the volunteer. Although popular in Persia and the Far East, including India, it was a rather dangerous trick, and Erik was determined not to use it in Europe. He did not think the social butterflies of the upper-classes would appreciate seeing one of their own stuck through with swords.

Surprisingly, it took nearly a year for him to achieve the full knowledge of this particular piece, but he felt it was worth it. A performance as striking as this was bound to bring in money, and spread word of his reputation faster than he could dream.

Traveling further East, to the mystical lands far more versed in the art of illusion, Erik went to India once his time in Persia was finished. There his Hindu master had taught him how to raise and gentle creatures of the earth and sky in order to awe the audience.

At first, Erik was angry that this particular aspect of illusionism would take a good five years to learn, but learn them he did. For half a decade, he studied the use of animals in his act, raising his own from tiny babies, training them, and caring for them, all the time growing to love them dearly and treating them as his only family

Moreover, Erik began to see that the use of animals could also delight children, should he be asked to perform for a rich man's child or for a theater full of them. However, given his facial appearance, he rather doubted that he would ever be introduced to even a single child, much less a whole mob of them. Besides, he wasn't very fond of the spoiled, arrogant children from the upper-class, though he was more than happy to delight those born to paupers and beggars. Orphans were his soft spot when it came to little ones, and throughout his journey, he was happy to enchant them with a few tricks whenever he encountered them on the street.

But in all of his roaming, Erik could see the fear and distrust in people's eyes. He was a masked man, after all, and if he went without one, he knew others would scream in fright and hide their eyes so as not to look at him. It was very depressing, but Erik managed to pull his strength together, determined to move past what his might look like in favor of his goal: to achieve such great fame and wealth that he would be able to win Leah's hand and provide a wonderful life for her.

In the end, it was an old man in China who came up with a solution to his image problem.

"You must advertise yourself as a masked magician," the old man had said with a toothless smile. "Everyone loves them; it adds a bit of mystery to the performance, and women love mysterious men, though the men of the audience will probably dislike you for just that reason."

And so Erik had put on the black mask , covering his deformity and hiding his face from the top of his lip upwards.

Sure enough, the old Chinese fellow had been right; women _did_ think him fascinating and mysterious, and the audience loved his dark, shadowy appearance. The cloak he wore in his performances was his own idea, and made everyone just a bit afraid of him, which was what he wanted. After all, if people feared you, even just a little, they wouldn't try and pester you for the secrets behind your magic and illusions.

With this whole new persona, Erik gave himself a new name: The Phantom. Mixed with his mask, dark cape, and very dark outfit, the performances became popular very quickly, and the audience always left gossiping about what they had seen. And when his tricks began to grow old with the crowd, Erik simply came up with new ones which combined everything he had learned from his masters, all of whom had helped him become the master illusionist he now was.

* * *

Heaving a sigh, Erik brought himself back to the present and to his predicament. Leah had seen him and recognized him, even after all these years. But how was that possible? He was different now from when she had last seen him ten years ago.

Lifting his head, Erik found his reflection staring back at him from a mirror, and his breath caught. It was his eyes! Leah had always liked his eyes, and had praised their color often.

'_But does she still love me as I do her_?' he wondered, staring at the masked man in the mirror.

After all, ten years is a long time, and she had been young when he'd left. Perhaps she had moved on to the arms of another? Though he had seen no ring on her hand, she might be engaged to be married to some nobleman in Paris, or to one back home.

He felt one of his hands clench. If Leah had moved on to another man, he had to know. If she was engaged to be married and loved her fiancé, Erik would leave her to the happy life she deserved. However, if she were engaged to an oaf she could not love, or (he prayed) she was still unattached, he would do something he had waited ten years for.

Whirling around, Erik snatched up a heavy coat and his black cloak, and vanished out the back door.

* * *

Seated before my vanity, I hummed a soft tune while brushing out my hair and thought back earlier this evening.

On our way home, Christine had been beside herself with envy, wanting to know how the Phantom's trick had been performed and insisting we go back as soon a possible for another performance. Since she did not seem to want an actual verbal response to her one-sided conversation, I merely sat there and gave the occasional nod or affirmative noise when required.

Actually, I was quite glad that I was able to keep my thoughts to myself. I had seen Erik again after so many years, and my heart felt as though it were going to leap from my chest. Had he been happy to see me again? He had recognized me, certainly, and said that he would find me at Christine's home in town, but had he really meant it?

The rest of the ride back to the de Chagny town house was filled with Christine's praise of The Phantom's work, and I constantly had to hold back my laughter. How ironic that Erik, the man she had once despised because of his disfigured face, was now someone she admired as a magician and illusionist.

"We really must go back, Leah," she had said as the footmen assisted us out of the carriage. "I want to be able to see his work again, and perhaps deduce how he does his tricks."

Again I nearly laughed. Really, Christine had had a difficult enough time getting through Madame Giry's lessons; how could she possibly understand how Erik performed his illusions?

Following her upstairs to the bedrooms, I shook my head and tried to listen as her chatter took on a different topic, moving on from The Phantom to the parties I was expected to attend with her.

"First there is that early afternoon tea party at a duchess's home nearby, though I cannot remember her name right now," Christine prattled on, "and then I will attempt to obtain tickets to The Phantom's next performance. Hopefully it will not be too hard to do so. The day after that…"

And so it went on until we reached the top of the steps (of which there had been many). Only then was I "dismissed" to my rooms for a bit of piece and quiet with my thoughts.

Now, seated before the mirror, I gave my reflection a small smile as I reached for the small jewelry box I had brought with me from home. Inside were the necklaces, earrings, and rings that Mama insisted I take with me for decoration, but there was one thing here that she did not know about the innocent-looking box.

Finding the latch inside, I opened a secret compartment within, and grinned. This box had been one of Erik's gifts to me, and he had shown me where all of the little caches were in order to hide my secrets. Gently sliding my fingers into the dark opening, I felt around until I found what I was searching for, and pulled it out.

Silver glinted in the flickering candlelight, and a bit of green stone caught the light as I turned and inspected it. This was the bracelet that Erik had given to me, so long ago, and it was one of my most prized possessions. The green stone was the exact shade of his eyes, and whenever I found myself thinking about him, I would pull out the now-outgrown piece of jewelry and stare at it.

Truthfully, the stone wasn't exactly like Erik's eye color. In reality, his eyes had a touch of gold flakes in them whenever his emotions ran high, and sometimes I was able to watch in fascination as the color went from a grey-green to a deep emerald that shone with golden flecks. The stone was a grey-green that matched his eyes only when he was calm, but I loved it anyway.

Tucking the bracelet back into its hiding place, I shut the little door and put my fingers to my neck. Unlike the small wrist bangle, this piece I was able to wear always: my locket.

The petals were all worn smooth with age and from my constant caresses of it. I had opened the secret lock many times over the years, just so that I might see Erik staring up at me when I missed him the most. Many would have recoiled at the sight of his painting, where the right side of his face was unmasked and displayed his deformity, but I cherished it. It showed him at his most vulnerable, a side of him that only I, of all people, knew.

A small creak from the window pulled me from my thoughts, but I did not to turn. Those doors, which led out to the balcony, made such noises all the time that it was easy to ignore them.

And so I did, until I heard the sound of the knob of the windows come undone.

* * *

Traveling through Paris at night was simple if one is on foot, and it was in this way that Erik slipped up to the large house residing on a quiet street.

From the shadows of the house, Erik knew he'd made the right choice in walking here. At this hour, a carriage pulling up to the house where the Vicompt de Chagny and his wife resided would raise questions; if there was one thing Erik hated, it was questions. Therefore, no one saw him make his way to the rear of the de Chagny mansion and up to the balconies.

His first choice had been the wrong one: it was the bedroom Christine shared with her husband, though the Vicompt did not seem to be in residence. It was a familiar scene from his life on the von Pressentin estate: as always, Christine was settled before the mirror, only this time she had a maid brushing her hair, while another maid turned down her bed and a third polished her nails.

'_My, she certainly has become the spoiled one_,' Erik thought in disgust.

She'd been like that years ago, always brushing her hair and trying to look pretty; she hated things that weren't pretty or even remotely unattractive. That was probably why she had hated Erik so much; he wasn't very pleasant to look at…well, unless the looker was Leah, who always called him handsome.

Moving on before he could be spotted, he passed the next few balconies quickly, as these belonged to empty guest quarters. Why Leah would be put so far away from her hostess was a very good question, especially since the von Pressentin family had done so much for Christine. Oh, well.

He finally found what he was after in the final two balconies, which appeared to belong to one large suite. There was a parlor, bathing room, and a large bedroom with a mirrored vanity, at which sat his beautiful angel. She appeared to be toying with something at her neck, giving Erik the perfect distraction as he slipped inside.

* * *

Whirling around, I was fully prepared to scream for help. But before I could, a gloved hand reached out and covered my mouth as a strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me tightly against a warm, firm chest. Looking upwards, I inhaled sharply at the sight of familiar green eyes staring down at me.

It was Erik!

My body almost collapsed in relief, sagging heavily into his arms. Erik reacted quickly, his hand releasing my mouth to wrap around my body and hold me close to him.

"Forgive me," he whispered into my ear. "I did not mean to frighten you."

I chose not to speak, instead pressing my nose to his black clothing and inhaling deeply. He smelled of cinnamon and something like musk, an intoxicating scent that I wanted more of. My hands reached up and clutched at the folds of his coat, keeping him against me as I savored the contact.

"Leah…" His voice sounded as though he were breathing heavily. "Leah, I…"

"Yes, Erik?" I whispered, tilting my head back to look up at him.

Without another word, he leaned down and kissed me.

* * *

It was taking all of his restraint to keep himself from going further than merely kissing his sweet Leah. He loved her so deeply, and wanted to show her how deep it was, but dared not go that far. What if he frightened her?

Suddenly, her arms came up and wound around his neck, pulling him closer and easily deepening their kiss. Lord, she was so soft and sweet, warm and perfect in his arms! How had he lived without her for so long?

The kiss ended when they both parted, catching their breath as Erik's lips hovered just above Leah's. For a moment, nothing was said, both waiting for the other to speak. For the first time in ages, Erik's mind failed in forming words.

But Leah's certainly didn't.

"Love me, Erik," she whispered.

He replied the only words that came to his tongue. "I already do."

A brilliant smile spread across her wonderful mouth. "That isn't what I meant when I said 'love me,' Erik."

The spark that flashed in her brown eyes struck him like a bolt of lightning, and even if Erik's mind did not understand Leah's words, his instincts most certainly did. Before he knew what was happening, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the waiting bed.

* * *

AN: What happens next is up to your imaginations (wink, wink). More coming next chapter! Hope you all enjoyed and will review! Thanks!


	5. When Wealth Isn't Everything

Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing related to _**The Phantom of the Opera**_ or _**The Illusionist**_. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: Here's the part where Christine shows her nasty side, so beware those of you who are Christine fans! Still, I hope that you at least will read, and if you enjoyed it, please review; I'd really appreciate it. Also: I'm going on vacation next week, and won't be updating for a while. Hopefully this will tide you over until I return. Thanks!

**Chapter 5: When Wealth Isn't Everything:**

Slowly, I woke from dreams of warm silk and loving words to a cold empty bed. Looking around in shock, I felt my heart break. Had last night been a dream? Was the man on stage not Erik, but a man pretending to be him in order to toy with my mind and heart?

Tears threatened to fall as I collapsed into my pillow, my hand stretching out to where I thought Erik had slept. The feel of something stiff met my fingertips, and when I heard the sound of it crinkling, my eyes opened wide. Lying on the empty space was a red rose with a black ribbon tied to the stem, and on top was a note.

Inhaling sharply, I immediately snatched up the message and tore it open, not dwelling on the fact that I was unclothed.

It was from Erik. To my dismay, the message was short, but it still gave me hope.

_Dearest Leah,_

_It is torture for me to leave you before you wake, but go I must. I cannot be spotted leaving your room or the home of your hostess, for that would raise questions we both do not want. _

_Before I go, however, I thought to leave you this note, to tell you how much and how long I have loved you, missed you, and dreamed of you these ten long years. Your face has always been in my mind, and now that I have seen it once more, the memory could never do the reality justice. You are always in my heart._

_I leave you this rose to remind you of my love, and for you to look on in order to remember our night together. I cannot send more to you, again for fear of society's questions, but know that soon, we will meet again._

_I love you, my angel._

_Erik_

Sighing, I looked at the rose and lay back on my pillows. I would have to rise soon and dress before the maid came, but that would not be for some time yet. For now, I would remember my reunion with the man I loved and dream of what the future would hold for us.

* * *

I was seated at my vanity in my nightgown and robe when the maid knocked for entry. Calling for her to enter, I continued to brush my hair as she chattered and began laying out a morning dress for me. Just as I normally did, I listened with half an ear as she talked, and let her dress me, pin up my hair, decorate it with ribbons, and hand me a few small pieces of jewelry to wear.

"Oh, my lady, you shouldn't pick the Vicompt's flowers," she suddenly blurted out.

Her words surprised me. "What?"

"The rose, ma'am," the girl replied while nodding towards my bedside table, where I had set the rose Erik had left me. "The Vicompt doesn't like the roses being picked."

I smiled at her. "I'm sorry. It was just so lovely, I couldn't resist. You won't tell your mistress, will you? After all, it's only one flower."

The maid smiled in return. "Not to worry, milady. I always thought it was a shame that they're never gathered and used to decorate the house. The master just lets them grow and fade, and the mistress doesn't much care for red roses; she only likes the pink ones from the rear of the house, and those are gathered until they fade."

We both giggled, and I allowed her to help me with my jewelry. "You never told me your name, dear," I said to her.

"Paulette, ma'am," she replied while fastening a bracelet to my wrist. "There you are. Now, Lady Christine is downstairs waiting, which is a first. She always sleeps late, but something's got her all flustered today, so do your best to be patient with her."

I thanked Paulette for the warning and went down for breakfast, which was held in a bright morning parlor. Christine was there, sipping a cup of tea, but when she set the cup down, I saw a slight frown on her face and knew that Paulette was right; my hostess was not in a good mood.

"Good morning, Christine," I said politely, attempting to not appear overly cheerful, lest it upset her further. "How are you?"

She looked up at me with her blue eyes and waved for me to join her. A servant appeared from out of nowhere to set the breakfast tray on the table between my hostess and myself. With a flick of the wrist, the man removed the cover to produce several small plates, each holding two helpings of various pastries.

When fresh tea had been poured for the two of us, Christine waved her hand at the man, dismissing him. The moment he was gone, she turned to me and smiled.

"I thought I would tell you that I have purchased season tickets to the theater, which means we will be visiting it quite frequently," she said while lifting a pastry from the tray to her own small plate. "I fully intend to see as much of this illusionist known as The Phantom as possible."

This confused me. Christine had never been interested in magicians or illusionists before; she had always said they were over-glorified street performers and deserved only a few coins for their talents. Why was she suddenly so interested in Erik (though she did not know it was him) and his skills?

I asked and was surprised by her reply.

"Leah, I must confess to being fascinated with him," she said with a smile. "A masked man with incredible abilities such as his…how could I not be?"

Carefully, Christine lifted up her tea cup and took a sip. "But besides that, I'm afraid I have other intentions when it comes to The Phantom." She took another sip of tea. "I intend to have him as my lover."

My jaw dropped in shock. "What?" I gasped. "Christine, I really don't think-"

She waved a hand at me. "Oh, don't look so scandalized, Leah," Christine said in a patronizing tone. "Honestly, it's not so looked down upon as it was back where we're from. Paris is so much more open to that, so long as it is kept quietly talked about and not shouted from the rooftops."

"But…what about Raoul?" I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around this news.

Christine merely shook her head. "I still care for Raoul. He is a good man and he is very fond of me, but he's always gone on some business trip or another with his father. I have needs, Leah, and I've no doubt that Raoul takes care of his own while he's off traveling. Therefore, it's only fair that I take a lover or two while he's gone."

I very much disagreed with her on this. I had met Raoul years ago on his wedding day, and thought him a good, kindhearted man that loved his new wife very much. If he had lovers on his business trips, then perhaps Christine was right in finding one of her own while her husband was gone. However, Raoul did not seem the sort to have affairs, and of course, Christine was acting on her own accord.

As I helped myself to a strawberry pastry, I felt worry settle into my heart. Although Christine and Erik had never been really civil to one another when we were all young, I thought it possible that Erik might accept her offer. After all, it had been ten years since they had seen one another, and in that time, Erik might have changed a great deal. Besides, Christine was a very beautiful young woman, and what man could resist a woman with such beauty?

'_Perhaps, after he has a closer look at her, Erik finds that he does not care for me as he once did_,' I thought in a panic. '_What if he decides that Christine is the better choice_?'

"And so we will leave for the theater after an early supper," Christine was saying. "Be sure you are ready by seven o'clock, Leah."

I simply nodded and returned to eating my meal, though I tasted none of it.

* * *

The rest of my day passed by slowly, my heart and mind lost in turmoil and worry. I wondered what would happen after Christine made her proposition to Erik and whether or not he would accept her offer. I did not think that he would, but in the time he'd been gone, I had no doubt that Erik had seen much of the world and had become a different man. Despite what had happened between us last night, which had been heaven for me, what if Erik decided he wanted someone far lovelier to wake up to in the morning? I was pretty enough, I supposed, but Christine was beautiful, and men always fall for a beautiful face.

A knot had been growing in my belly all day, and I had forced myself to eat and behave normally, lest I attract attention from my maids or Christine. If they thought me to be ill, then I would not be able to attend Erik's performance tonight, and I desperately wanted to, if only to see what his reply would be to Christine's offer.

When evening came, I went through the motions of eating a light supper and allowing Paulette to help dress me for the performance, not even paying attention to how she arranged my hair nor saw to how well my white-and-green gown looked. Once I was ready, I followed close behind Christine as she went down the stairs and out to the waiting carriage, where we were helped inside by a footman.

In half an hour, we were comfortably seated in a box with a very impressive view of the stage and the audience. The show began just as we were seated, but I paid no attention to the illusions or magic; instead, I watched Erik and his face. He had spotted me with little difficulty, as Christine's box was on the first level of the theater, and just beside the stage. I thought I saw him smile, but could not be sure; he had to maintain his stage persona, after all.

The performance seemed to last an eternity, and none of it fascinated me at all; I was too focused on what would happen afterwards, when Christine would bribe her way backstage and into Erik's dressing rooms in order to ask for his 'favors.'

Finally, the last stunt was over with, and I felt a firm gloved hand on my arm. "Come, Leah," Christine whispered into my ear.

I took a deep breath and followed.

* * *

Once he was alone in his dressing room, Erik took a deep calming breath. He had seen the look on Leah's face, and knew she was terrified of something, though what that was remained a mystery, and it worried him.

A knock at the door drew his attention. "Yes?" he snapped.

One of the messenger boys poked his head inside. "Excuse me, sir," he whimpered, "but the Vicomptess Christine de Chagny is outside with her companion, the Baroness Leah von Pressentin, and wishes a private audience with you."

Erik was confused. Christine was here? Why in heaven's name would she want to speak to him? Of course, she didn't know that it was Erik she was approaching, but why she wanted to see The Phantom was a puzzle.

"Let them in," he grudgingly said. Not that he was doing this for Christine, but rather Leah.

In sailed Christine, dressed finely in silks and satins of the finest material, her brown curls pined up with diamond clips. Fine gloves clad her hands, and a gold wedding band decorated her left ring finger. There was a sparkle in her eyes that made him weary of her almost immediately, and Erik quickly put up his guard.

"Vicomptess," he said with a slight bow. Turning he caught sight of Leah in her white-and-green gown and smiled warmly at her. "My Lady."

Leah gave him a weak smile before lowering her gaze. The sight of her looking so sad and meek alarmed him; what could possibly make his normally cheerful, vibrant angel wilt like this?

Christine was giving him a brilliant smile while waving the little messenger boy out the door. Giving a swift bow, the urchin fled, shutting the door behind him and leaving Erik to his two guests. In an attempt to be polite, he offered them seats, making sure to give Leah the more comfortable chair and not Christine. It was petty of him, but he couldn't care less.

Once seated, he gave them his full attention. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Again, Christine gave him a smile, but this one had a hidden invitation behind it, one that Erik recognized from his travels and one that he was surprised to see coming from her.

"I have come with a proposal for you, monsieur," the Vicomptess said in a soft voice. "I cannot stay long for fear of attracting attention to me and my title, so I will be straightforward."

She leaned a bit closer to him. "My husband the Vicompt is a very busy man, and he tends to leave me alone while he travels. As you can imagine, and I'm often lonesome in that large house, and am in need of…companionship."

Erik couldn't have been more shocked if his illusions came to life and began performing their tricks on their own. Was Christine asking him to become her lover? Was she mad, thinking that he would risk his life and anger a French nobleman just for her pleasures? If she wasn't mad, she certainly was selfish and rather stupid to think so.

He had to be sure. "I believe you already have a companion, primarily that of the young lady seated behind you," he said, looking over at Leah, who refused to meet his eyes.

The Vicomptess gave a small chuckle. "It seems I must make myself clearer," she said with a flirtatious smile. "I would like for you to become my lover for the time you are in Paris."

Quickly, Erik glanced over at Leah, who looked as though she were going to become sick. It was clear that she knew what Christine intended to do here, and could not bear it. Perhaps Leah thought he would accept the offer, thereby leaving her and her love behind him? He bit back a snort. Not bloody likely.

"I am sorry, Vicomptess, but I am afraid I must refuse," Erik replied, keeping his voice polite in spite of the anger and disgust he felt.

Unsurprisingly, Christine did not appear happy. "Don't be foolish," she snapped while waving a white gloved hand. "If you are concerned about money, you can rest assured that I have the means and willingness to spend a great deal on you and whatever it is you desire. Expensive food, clothing, jewelry, horses; anything at all can be yours with little difficulty."

By now, Leah had grown even paler and more wretched, causing Erik to leap from his chair and rush to her. "My Lady, are you alright?" he asked, taking her hands in his. "You're so pale!"

She gave him a weak smile. "I'm alright. I think that perhaps I did not eat enough at supper before coming to the theater."

Releasing Leah's hands for a brief moment, he reached over and rang the servant bell. Almost immediately, a serving man entered. "I need food and wine brought here at once," Erik ordered. "Make sure that it is worthy of a lord's table as well." The man bowed and rushed off.

Turning towards Leah, Erik felt his heart beat fast as she gave him a kind, sweet smile, the sort that she had always given him when they were together in his rooms, talking the night away. As memories of the past filled his mind, Erik felt a rush of love fill his heart. She had been so worried that he would choose another woman over her, the thought of him abandoning her had made her ill.

'_Silly girl, how could I love any other but you_?' he thought fondly, wishing that he dared say it aloud.

The servant returned immediately, bearing a tray filled with expensive sliced meats, fine cheeses, and bread, followed by another man with a wine decanter and three glasses. Quickly dismissing the men, Erik poured a glass for Leah and knelt beside her, making sure that she drank it slowly. He was relieved to see a bit of color come back into her cheeks.

"Are you well now?" he asked, looking deep into her brown eyes. She nodded. "Good. Then perhaps you should eat a bit before you leave."

She smiled and shook her head. "No, I think I should return home and rest. I am a bit tired, for I did not sleep well last night."

The tiny smile she gave him sent heat through his veins, invoking his memories of what had happened between them the night before. If Erik had his way, there would be many more of them in the near future.

"I understand," he calmly replied, though his eyes were surely sparking at her. "Have a pleasant evening, mademoiselle, and I hope you are able to enjoy a few more of my performances in the forthcoming nights."

He was thrilled to see her smile brighten just a little, the sight giving him hope that she would return to watch him at least once more.

* * *

Christine and I took our leave of Erik's dressing rooms a few moments after he had offered me the wine. I dared not drink much of it, for I had no head or stomach for alcohol, and we had to leave quickly before people began to ask all sorts of questions. As it was, most would think that Christine was merely an admirer of Erik's work, but if we stayed any longer, they would being to whisper, and she couldn't have that, unless it was under her own terms.

The ride back to the de Chagny house was quiet, and not the good sort of silence, either. I knew that Christine was still furious that Erik had refused her offer, and that his refusal had shocked her. She truly believed that any man would be willing to become her lover, if not for her money, then for her looks. After all, she was beautiful as well as rich, and was willing to spend her wealth on a "kept" man, so long as he kept her amused and gave her attention.

Erik, I knew, was different. I had seen the way his green eyes had filled with concern for me, and how he had doted on my when I looked ill over Christine's offer to him. He still loved me, and always would, this I knew for certain.

"I cannot believe that he refused me!" Christine suddenly snapped. "Imagine, a magician spurning the attention of a Vicomptess! It's unheard of! Who does that man think he is?"

I bit back a sigh, knowing that it would do no good to say anything while she was angry.

"What man would not want a woman like myself as his patroness?" she went on. "With my wealth, I could help him become greater than his is now! What kind of man would refuse such an opportunity, Leah? Really!"

Silently blocking out Christine's tirade, I looked out the window into the blackness of the night. Most of the houses were dark now, but once and a while we passed a streetlamp, its golden light casting safety and hope out to those who needed it. I was one of those who did, and in my heart, I clung to the hope that Erik would, indeed, come to me again.

But even greater than that was a vision of the two of us running away together, just me and Erik. Someday, that dream would come true. For now, there were only meetings in the night, and for me, that was enough…if only for a while.

* * *

Upon reaching the house, Christine still would not put a halt to her rants of anger and frustration over Erik's (or rather, The Phantom's) refusal of her and her offer. She went straight to the parlor, ordered a calming tea, and began to pace the room, the silks and satins of her evening gown rustling as she moved.

Glancing towards the open door, I saw several servants glance nervously in Christine's direction, exchanging whispers and looks, apparently warning one another that the Vicomptess was in a rather foul mood. Several of them disappeared almost at once, possibly taking refuge in the kitchen or the servant's quarters, where they knew Christine would never go.

Oh, how I'd envied them for that!

It was my misfortune to be the one forced to sit and listen to their mistress's anger. I saw a few of them give me sympathetic looks, and sighed. They knew it was going to be a long evening.

"I don't know why he would refuse me," Christine snapped. "I've had other men before, and all of them were perfectly willing to accept my advances. Why not him? What could possibly be his reason for refusing me?"

By now, my head was beginning to ache, and I was growing irritated with her childish tantrum. "Why do you want him in the first place, Christine?" I asked, exasperated. "You have everything you could ever want, everything that you have wanted since you were a child!"

I waved my hand to indicate our surroundings. "You live in a fine house in a fashionable part of Paris, one of the most glamorous cities in the world! You're married to not only a rich man, but a young, handsome and kindhearted one, too. You're even close to becoming the lady of the de Chagny family, once his parents die!"

By now I was truly angry at her, not only for trying to obtain Erik's affections, but also for being so selfish and greedy. "Why would you want The Phantom, an illusionist you probably won't remember in a few weeks' time, once his show has moved to a different city? Why not take another lover, someone local and from your own class?"

She looked at me as though the answer should be obvious. "I want that air of magic and mystery that he has," Christine said with a smile. "I want the excitement of seeing that mask above me as he makes love, to see those green eyes peek out from behind black velvet. I want him to perform those magic tricks for me and me alone." Her eyes hardened. "And I won't rest until I have him."

Christine's words made me even angrier, but I did not say or do anything I might later regret. She was behaving like a spoiled child, wanting anything that was not available to her, which should not have surprised me.

Her father, Sir Harran, a man who had lost his wife in childbirth and knew nothing about how to raise a daughter, had always given Christine whatever she wanted, no matter what the cost. He had arranged for her to be properly educated at my parents' castle, knowing the servants would not refuse her demands, and had often sent expensive gifts or money, just so that Christine could have something new to play with.

'_I wish Madame Giry were here_,' I thought wistfully. '_She is the only person in the world Christine fears_.' Sadly, she was far away in Russia, teaching the czar's daughters etiquette.

"I'm tired," Christine suddenly snapped. "Goodnight, Leah." With that, she turned and left, calling out orders to the servants still lingering in the hallway.

Relieved to be free, I went up to my own room, more than ready to curl up in bed and forget this night ever happened.

However, my rest was to be delayed that night. After I dismissed Paulette for the night, I was startled to see one of the shadows break away from the rest, quickly becoming a man dressed in black.

"Erik!" I gasped, racing into his arms.

He folded me into a warm, comforting embrace, one hand tangling into my hair as I tried to bury my face in his chest. "What is wrong, Angel?" Erik murmured. "What troubles you so?"

Without looking up, I softly related what had happened on the carriage ride back from the theater. I told him of Christine's desire for him, and how she wanted to possess him like a human possesses a dog. The thought terrified me, and I could feel my body shake with worry and fear.

"Hush, my love," Erik whispered, his voice soft as velvet. "There is no need to worry."

I looked up at him, ready to protest, but was silenced by a finger pressing against my lips. Before I could utter a sound, he lifted me into his arms and once again carried me to the bed, whispering words of comfort and love into my ears long into the night.

* * *

Christine had been so angered by The Phantom's refusal that it was nearly impossible for her to fall asleep that night. As the hour grew later, she decided to have some wine, praying that it would help her get at least a few hours of rest.

Making her way down the hall, she thought she would check and see if Leah was awake. If she was, perhaps she would provide some sort of amusement until Christine felt tired enough to return to bed.

Pausing outside of her friend's room, Christine raised her hand to knock, but stopped. There was an odd sound coming from inside, and after a moment, she knew what it was; after all, she was a married woman and had experience in that area.

'_Leah has a man in her room_!' she thought, furious. '_How dare she lecture me on having lovers when she has one of her own_!'

Turning to head back to her room, Christine held her head up and smiled. She knew how to handle something like this, and tomorrow, Leah would be in for a tremendous shock indeed.

* * *

AN: Please review! Thank you!


	6. The Difference Between Lust and Love

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the film _**The Illusionist**_ or anything _**Phantom**_ related (which really bums me out). Only original characters are mine.

AN: Yes, I've returned from vacation! And be warned, there's more wickedness from Christine in this chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Thanks!

**Chapter 6: The Difference Between Lust and Love:**

I woke feeling warm and loved. Erik had departed long before dawn so as to escape notice, but I was content, nonetheless. He'd told me that he loved me and only me, and I believed him. Those green eyes always betrayed his feelings, and the glow that filled those emerald orbs spoke volumes: Erik was very much in love with me.

"My Lady, are you awake?" Paulette's soft voice called to me. "The Countess is on her way downstairs right now! Oh, you've slept so late, Mistress Leah!"

After what happened last night, I really could care less about what Christine wanted or felt. However, she was my hostess, and thus, I really had no choice in the matter.

Grudgingly, I roused myself from the bed, was dressed in a white morning gown, had my hair pulled into a simple bun, and was downstairs in about half an hour. The servants I passed on my way to the dining room gave me respectful nods, and also, much to my surprise, encouraging smiles. Perhaps they thought me very brave for putting up with their mistress when she was in a foul temper.

I entered the dining room and was surprised to find it void of servants. Christine sat at the head of the table, since her husband was out of town, and there was a display of various pastries on the table. Pitchers of milk, juice and other cold beverages were set up, and a cup of each had been poured out for me, all lined in a row before the empty place setting. There was even a pot of hot chocolate.

Quickly taking my seat, I placed the white cloth napkin in my lap and took a sip of chocolate, letting the sweet liquid coat my throat and awaken me. I was reaching for one of the pastries when I noticed that Christine was glaring at me in a very harsh manner.

"I imagine that you must be hungry, given what occurred in your rooms last night," she said, her voice low and angry. "How dare you lecture me on having lovers when you have one in your room, and under my roof?"

Gently, so as not to crush the delicate confection in my anger, I set the pastry back in its place. I schooled my features to reveal nothing, and instead calmly smoothed the napkin that rested in my lap.

After several quiet moments passed, Christine leaned forward in her chair. "Who was it, Leah?" she demanded. "Who have you smuggled into your bed, into my house?"

The coldness in her eyes usually had others throwing themselves at her feet, begging for forgiveness. This was usually either because of her title (when her servants wanted to keep their jobs), or her beauty, (because men hated having a beautiful woman displeased with them).

I was neither of these.

Rather than weeping or giving watery apologies, I stood up from the table and _looked_ _down_ upon her.

"Christine," I said, calmly and coldly. "I did have a man in my room last night, and who he is will remain a mystery, for I refuse to tell you."

Infuriated, Christine also stood up. "You hypocrite!" she cried. "How dare you think so lowly of me when you do the same thing?"

She quieted under the cool, level look I directed at her. That was one of many differences between us: Christine thought loosing her temper meant she always got what she wanted. I, on the other hand, behaved in a more civil manner, and put on a good face in situations such as this.

"Indeed, your behavior is far worse than mine, Christine," I said to her. "You betray your husband with others, not fully appreciating the love he bears for you. You spend _his_ money on _your_ lovers without a thought, and use your title to obtain men who would refuse you."

Lifting my head in pride, I managed to look more arrogant and prideful than she. "I, however, am hurting no one. I have no husband to betray, nor a fiancé, either, so don't you dare compare our situations to one another!"

Furious, I turned and glided out of the dining room, sweeping upstairs to my room and locking the door.

* * *

Angrily pacing her room, Christine waited until Paulette, the maid assigned to attend Leah, arrived. When she did, Christine glared at her and pointed a perfectly manicured nail at her.

"Tell me everything you know about the Baroness von Pressentin!" she snapped. "Now!"

For the next half hour, Paulette went on about Leah's likes and dislikes in regards to gowns, hairstyles, and other such things, which Christine found dull and uninformative. It was the sort of thing most maids gathered when attending a guest, but it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"And then there is that locket she's got around her neck."

Christine froze. "What was that?"

Paulette curtseyed. "The strange wooden locket that the Baroness wears on a chain," she said. "She's been fiddling with it a great deal lately, though it doesn't appear that she notices her actions."

It was what she was searching for. The locket Leah always wore had been given to her by that horrible deformed monster she had saved years ago, when they were just children. Christine had always hated the boy, knowing him for the strange and unnatural creature he was. She had always thought Leah spent time with him out of pity, but apparently that was not so, and the two had formed an attachment.

Over ten years ago, not long after Leah's sixteenth birthday, Erik, as he'd been called, had left suddenly, taking only a few possessions with him. Christine had been glad when he'd gone, unable to stand his odd looks or the way he always tinkered with tools. The only good he had ever done for her was leaving many pretty pieces of glass jewelry behind, clearly meant for some of his unfinished projects. Those glass gems and beads had provided something for Christine to wear until she was able to buy the real thing.

'_But apparently the creature has returned, somehow finding his way to Paris_,' Christine thought while nibbling her bottom lip. '_Or…perhaps they have always been in contact, and he followed her here_.'

Well, that didn't matter. The point was that Leah's lover, the one person Christine detested most in the world, had entered the house, and it was not to be tolerated. She would have to inform her childhood playmate that Erik was not allowed on the grounds, or else he would be arrested. It was time to put Leah in her place.

The very idea made a small grin spread across Christine's face. '_Let us see how she handle's __**that**_,' she thought as she walked towards Leah's rooms.

* * *

I would not be surprised if my 'hostess' was angered by what happened after she came to my door. I had not even bothered to open the door, even after Christine had announced herself and demanded to be let inside.

Forced to dictate her orders through the closed door, both Christine and Paulette, who had accompanied her, were probably shocked at the flood of insults that flowed from my mouth, passing through the wood of the doorway and into their ears.

My satisfaction was immense, for Christine was beyond furious at my words, and had slammed the door of her room, much to my great pleasure.

'_Perhaps I was cruel in calling her a selfish, vain, and arrogant brat_,' I thought, but immediately dismissed it. I had also told Christine that she was greedy, always wanted more of everything and never being content with what she had, which probably didn't help matters.

The clock on my nightstand ticked away the hours, and by noon, I was famished. I was surprised when Paulette seemed to magically appear from nowhere, a heavy basket over her arm. She informed me that she'd used a secret stairwell in the walls, which had been placed there in case of a need to escape the house.

"I'm sorry to say that I told the Countess everything I knew about you," she said, removing the cover of the basket to place bread, cheese, jam, cold meat, and some oranges onto a table. "I didn't want to, of course, but she is my employer, and I've no one else to go to for work if I'm turned off."

Paulette quickly told me everything she'd said to Christine, and while she carefully began to peel an orange for me, said, "The Countess has also ordered that any intruder onto the property is to be arrested."

I nodded my understanding, feeling angry not at Paulette, but at myself for always toying with my locket. It was an absentminded gesture I often did when thinking about Erik, and I had clearly resorted to doing it far more frequently, now that I had seen him again.

'_But the good news is that Christine doesn't know that Erik is The Phantom_,' I thought while having a bit of lunch. '_She hasn't put that together, and probably never will. She never was a clever one_.'

Still, I would have to leave and warn Erik that I could be in danger. Christine could be rather vicious when it came to revenge, and the last thing I wanted was for him to get hurt.

"Paulette, I need to leave tonight, after dark," I whispered to her. "There's someone I have to meet."

The maid nodded. "Aye, the man the Countess says you're seeing. I can help you with that."

* * *

It was after midnight that I made a mad escape from the de Chagny house. I had remained in my room for the entire day, not emerging once. Paulette had brought be food and drink, and when the time came, she smuggled me out through the secret stair and out to the street, where I walked down a ways before hailing a cab. Dressed in pitch black from head to toe, my face covered by a black veil, I quickly told the driver to take me to the theater.

Within half an hour, I was at the theater's back door. A quick bribe to a stagehand got me inside, and a little more coin got the man to take me up to Erik's rooms. The foul-smelling man gave me a lusty grin before moving on, likely believing me to be a paid "night flower," like those that walked the streets every evening.

A swift knock was answered by a sleepy, gruff voice, but it was one that I recognized. Tucked inside the hood of my cloak, I waited for the door to open.

* * *

It had been a long day, followed by a disappointing evening. Not that the performance hadn't gone well; it had, and to much applause. No, what was wrong was that Leah had not come. The box that Christine rented was empty, and he could not understand why. Perhaps she was ill? That would explain her absence, surely, but not that of the Countess, particularly when she was so interested in him.

Well, whether they were there or not, Erik was expected to perform, and so he did, awing the crowd to the point of receiving a standing ovation for his efforts. Their applause soothed his spirits a little, but not much; he had wanted Leah there to see him, and she wasn't.

After the performance, he had stomped up to his room and locked the door, not wanting to be disturbed. He helped himself to the wine that had been set on a table, right beside a tray of food, and downed three glasses of the stuff before calming down. It was then that there was a knock on the door.

Believing it to be one of the stagehands, or worse, someone seeking his attentions, Erik flung open the door to give the interloper a piece of his mind.

To his surprise and delight, it was Leah. He would recognize her anywhere, not matter what she was wearing over her head.

"Erik?" she whispered from beneath her veil. "I need to speak with you."

He immediately pulled her inside, settling her down in a comfortable chair before the fireplace. A glass of wine went into her hands, and Erik was thrilled to see the veil lowered, revealing her beautiful face.

Then he noticed how pale she looked. "Leah, what's wrong?"

What she told him made his blood boil. So Christine knew about his nightly visits to Leah's bed. That did not really trouble him, but what did was the fact that Leah feared some sort of retribution from her. In fact, Leah was so fearful that she trembled, and it took an entire glass of wine to calm her.

"You know she will do her best to harm me, Erik," she said weakly. "She was always jealous of me and my family's rank, and wanted to be higher than I was. I thought that her marriage would satisfy her, but it seems as though I hoped for too much."

Unable to see his beloved cry, Erik took her glass from her, put it aside, and lifted her from her chair. She squeaked in surprise as he sat down in her chair, setting her cozily in his lap. The top of her head tucked under his chin, and his wonderful arms held her against his strong body.

"Do not worry, beloved," he whispered. "I will find a way to keep you from harm. Then, when the time is right, the two of us will be wed."

Leah lifted her head, brown eyes staring up at him. "Wed?" she breathed.

He chuckled and took her hands in his. "Yes, my love, married. I want you to become my wife."

She gave a soft cry before throwing her arms around him. "Oh, Erik! Of course I'll marry you!"

Grinning broadly, he leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

Christine watched from the shadows of an alleyway as The Phantom escorted a woman outside, hailing her a cab at the street and kissing her hand goodbye. The sight infuriated her to no end. From the information she had squeezed out of her servants, she knew the other woman was Leah, though what she was doing here was a mystery.

'_No doubt her precious Erik is working for The Phantom_,' she thought with a sneer. '_That boy was always trying to impress her with some slight-of-hand nonsense. He probably taught The Phantom a few tricks and is the one behind the scenes, making sure that everything goes right, through it's the tall, dark and handsome Phantom that draws the crowds as much as the illusions themselves_.'

Once Leah and her carriage were out of sight, Christine emerged from the dark shadows. "Good evening, Monsieur."

The Phantom stopped and turned, obviously not expecting her. "Countess," he said, formally and stiffly.

She looked him up and down, taking in the black shirt that was open at the collar and admiring the sprinkle of dark hair that lay under it. Lord, he was a handsome man!

"It appears you have been taking liberties with the Baroness von Pressentin. No doubt she is sleeping with you in order to have you free her beloved Erik from your employ," she said, eyeing him intensely. "Perhaps now you will listen to me, since I have caught you both in the act."

He stood there, silently waiting for her to speak. Most excellent.

She gave him her most charming and flirtatious smile. "I will give you a choice, monsieur, and since you seem to be so fond of the Baroness, you will make the right one. The choice is simple: you choose to become my lover, and I will not tell anyone about your ruining Leah's innocence."

A vengeful smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. "If you refuse me, I will make sure that all of Paris knows that she is unfit for a decent marriage. Her reputation will be in shreds, her family will cast her out, and she will be left to sell her self on the streets, making her even more fallen that she already is."

Christine watched as The Phantom's gloved hands clenched and relaxed, but was unworried. She knew he dared not attack her, not when all of society would know about it and hunt him down for harming one of the upper class.

Quietly, she waited for his reply, knowing that he would make the right choice.

* * *

It was taking all of Erik's will not to reach out and strangle the manipulative little brat. How dare she threaten his love, the woman who had been good and kind to the both of them? Leah and her family had been so generous to Christine; how could she have grown up so wrong?

Mulling over his thoughts, Erik knew he had to buy some time for both himself and for Leah, and there was only one way to do that.

"I would like to have time to consider the matter," he told her, adding a touch of hypnotic power to his voice. It was an old trick he'd learned from one of his masters, and was very effective.

Christine's eyes immediately glazed a little, and seemed happy to oblige him.

"You have until tomorrow night to decide," she said, though her voice was less hostile than before. "I expect your answer after the performance."

Erik decided to push his luck just a little. "Such a decision requires at least a few days," he suggested, using the full force of his voice. For Leah, he'd unleash hell, if necessary. "Perhaps a week."

"A week," Christine agreed, falling even further into his hypnotic trap.

He nodded. "Until then, Countess."

"Until then," she said, turning to leave.

Once Christine had departed, Erik forced himself to relax, his mind going over what the ruthless young woman had said. '_So she does not suspect that I, Erik, am The Phantom_,' he thought. '_She merely thinks that ' Erik' is in some sort of slave-like employ of The Phantom, and that Leah is sharing herself with me to free her sweetheart_. _That is interesting_.'

Well, the girl had never been very bright, so he could hardly expect the impossible for her. It was actually a bit funny, but he would have to save his amusement for a different time. Right now, he had much to do, and not much time to do it in.

* * *

AN: The next chapter will be the final one, just so you know. Please don't forget to review! Thanks!


	7. The Greatest Trick of All

Disclaimer: I sadly own nothing related to _**The Phantom of the Opera**_ or _**The Illusionist**_. Only original characters belong to me.

AN: This is the last chapter of this story. Remember, I didn't intend on it being too long, sort of like the movie in length, and this is it. Hopefully everyone likes it and will review. Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story! I love you all!

**Chapter 7: The Greatest Trick of All:**

Pacing the length of his room, Erik stroked his chin and sighed. With a few bribes paid, and a few partied attended, he had managed to find out everything he could about Leah and her condition in the de Chagny home.

According to the household servants, Leah was being kept locked away inside, forbidden to leave the house by the Countess. The gossip being cast about by Christine was that Leah was very ill with influenza, or some other sort of sickness; of course, the servants knew better.

"Seems that Lady Christine discovered the Baroness had won the favors of a man the Countess wished as her lover," a young servant girl whispered to the cloaked and hooded Erik. "The Countess hates it when someone tries to take what she thinks is hers, so the Baroness has been locked away."

A manservant of the house confirmed the same thing. "It seems Lady Christine is blackmailing the Baroness, saying that she'll ruin the good reputation of Mistress Leah if she doesn't stay inside of her own will. Not to mention, the Countess swore to send the law after the man himself, claiming that he'd forced himself upon her."

His blood boiling, Erik paid both servants well, and returned to his rooms, his mind spinning with the information gathered. Leah, his beloved, was captive in that awful woman's house, and there was nothing he could do for her.

Well, at least not at the time.

As the days passed, it pained Erik to think that he could not visit Leah or contact her in the hopes of providing comfort and hope. He dared not send a letter, for she knew no one in Paris besides him and Christine, and it was likely the Countess went through every single bit of mail that went through her house.

Visiting was also out of the question. Christine probably had guards to watch the property, and those men likely had pistols and other deadly weaponry on them. No, a visit was too risky, and he wasn't going to do her any good if he were dead.

After combing through his information, Erik sat in his private rooms in his hotel and let his genius mind flow. It didn't take long to formulate a plan, and once he had worked out every scenario that could possibly go wrong, he went to work.

* * *

Christine looked at the letter in her hand and blinked. It was a message from The Phantom, and she was wondering if she had read it correctly.

A week ago, a letter had already come from the masked magician, saying that he was willing to accept her offer, but that he needed time to prepare for their first encounter.

Thrilled at his acceptance, Christine had granted him seven days, knowing that patience was required if she was to have the most out of this bargain. No doubt he was planning something special for their first rendezvous.

Now, with his time up, this letter had come, asking her to attend his performance tonight, and to bring her house guest, Leah von Pressentin. The reason why he wanted Christine there was clear: to impress her with his talents, maybe to flirt with her from the stage. But why would he want Leah to attend? It was ridiculous, and Christine had every intent of refusing his request for Leah's presence and merely go by herself.

However, common sense stopped her. Sooner or later, her excuses to society would become tiresome, and people would begin to suspect she was hiding something. If Leah did not make an appearance in public soon, everyone would think the Baroness was dying, or worse, they would start asking questions. Eventually, word of Leah's supposed illness would reach her family, and then her father would rush here to Paris, demanding to see his daughter. If there was one person Christine did not want standing over her with a look of anger on their face, it was the Baron. Well, besides Madame Giry, but she was far away in Russia with the tsar's family.

'_No, I'll have to take Leah with me_,' she thought with a sneer. '_I don't like it, and I don't understand why The Phantom wants her there, but I will take her_.'

Perhaps he was just being polite, or he hadn't heard the rumors she had spread around, claiming Leah was extremely ill. Perhaps he wanted to be kind by asking her to his performance. Well, either way, Christine and her houseguest would be attending the evening's performance at the theater. And in attending the show together, at least Leah would be under her watchful eye, not alone in the house with the servants.

'_Besides, I haven't been to the theater since I gave him my ultimatum_,' Christine thought to herself. '_I do hope he has something new to perform_.'

It could prove to be a very interesting evening.

* * *

It was maddening to be locked inside the house at all hours, but with books being smuggled to me by Paulette and the other maids, it wasn't too bad. Whenever Christine was out shopping in town or attending teas and parties, the servants drew the curtains in all the windows, let me out of my room, and let me wander about the house, if only for a few hours.

Apparently the staff did not agree with what their mistress was doing to me, and believed that it was terribly unfair of her to confine me to the house like this. The theory floating around the servant's quarters was that I had either stolen one of Christine's intended lovers, or that one of her lovers had fallen in love with me. They had no idea how close they were to the truth.

For well over a week, I was hidden this way. One may wonder why I obeyed Christine's commands; certainly my maid did. But what I did was not for the sake of my reputation in society; it was for Erik's safety. I could not let her harm him in any way, and as long as her anger was directed towards me, things remained quiet.

On my tenth day of imprisonment, I was shocked when Paulette came rushing in, just as my tea dishes were being taken away by another maid.

"Milady, the Countess has declared that you're to go with her to the theater tonight!" she exclaimed while rushing towards my wardrobe. "You must be dressed and ready by six o'clock!"

My mind still had not absorbed what she was telling me. "Christine actually wishes to take me to the theater?" I asked, wondering if I had heard correctly.

Paulette sighed and pulled out an elegant white dress with silver and gold ribbon trim around the neck, arms, and skirt. "Apparently so, Miss. Oh, how pale and drawn you look! It'll take a great deal of work to make you presentable, but I suppose that it'll play towards the rumors of you being ill."

Once I was dressed, Paulette pulled up my hair into a bun, threaded it with ribbons, and fitted a few bracelets around my wrists. Erik's locket still hung from my neck, but I wore another necklace over it, to keep it from view.

When I was ready, my helpful maid brought me a light supper, which I ate without tasting. As I pulled a shawl and cloak over my shoulders, I wondered what performance I would be seeing tonight at the theater. Paulette hadn't mentioned it, but no matter what it was, it had to be better than sitting alone and bored in my rooms.

It is needless to say that the carriage ride to our destination was rather silent. Well, silent on my part. Christine gave strict orders that I was not to do anything out of the ordinary, and was not to leave her side, or her sight. She gave no room for me to answer, so I merely stayed quiet, ignoring everything she said.

Disembarking from the carriage, I trailed behind Christine as she walked inside. She smiled, nodded, laughed, and chatted with those who approached her, most of them young men who came to flatter and flirt with her. I, on the other hand, received comments of how ill I looked, and that I should try and visit the sea for some fresh air and recuperation. I smiled politely and pretended to agree with them, if only so make them leave me alone all the quicker.

Finally, after moving through the throng of theater patrons, Christine and I were escorted to a box seat near the stage. The usher bowed and quickly left us alone, which was good, because a moment later, my heart stopped as I realized who we were going to see perform on stage.

It was Erik.

I only started breathing again when I felt a tight grip on my arm, and heard Christine whisper to me, "He is mine, Leah. As much as you would like to free your Erik from his employ, The Phantom is mine!"

Remaining stoic, I watched the performance, but felt something was odd about it. Perhaps it was because I had not seen him in ten days, and my imagination was toying with me.

"And now, I require a volunteer for my next trick," Erik announced in his rich voice.

Casting his eyes around the audience, he finally came to me. I could see him give me a significant look, clearly asking me to stand on the stage with him once more. How could I refuse him?

My hand lifted, and even though Christine was whispering for me to lower my hand, I kept it up, praying for at least a short time with the man I loved. He nodded and reached a hand out towards me, motioning for me to come forward. Still ignoring Christine's quiet command to sit back down, I followed the usher down to the stage and went to join the masked illusionist.

As I had walked towards him, I noticed that a large black box, big enough to hold a full-grown man, had been wheeled onstage. I smiled as Erik led me to the center of the stage, knowing it would be one of the oldest tricks in the book: the vanishing person.

"Ladies and gentlemen, observe," Erik said, opening the box in the front and knocking a firm hand against the back. "No hidden tricks or compartments." He held a hand out to me. "My lady, if you will?"

I took his hand and stepped inside, turning to face the audience. Before he shut me inside, Erik whispered, "Whatever you do, don't scream."

Puzzled, I merely smiled up at him and the audience before the front closed, surrounding me in darkness. Then, a moment later and without warning, the floor dropped away.

I couldn't help it; I screamed.

* * *

Quivering in anger, Christine kept her face expressionless as she watched Leah climb up the steps to the stage. How _dare_ she do this?

From her seat, Christine rolled her eyes as a tall, large black box was wheeled onstage, and knew what trick would occur. It was that dull trick of making someone disappear. How mediocre of him to perform this!

Bored already, she relaxed in her chair and sighed, watching as Leah was put into the box, locked inside, and with a puff of smoke, 'disappeared.' There was a cry of surprise from within the box, but it quickly vanished, causing everyone in the audience to gasp and worry if the woman inside was alright. When it was opened to reveal that it was empty, the audience applauded.

"Thank you," The Phantom said to his patrons. "I promise to return her shortly. But first…"

A flock of exotic birds erupted from his cupped hands, showering everyone with a flurry of rainbow feathers as they flew overhead and up into the rafters. Christine smirked as a long red feather landed in her lap. She would have to put it into one of her hats later.

Fifteen minutes went by as The Phantom performed several more amazing feats, the tall black box remaining onstage the whole white. During this time, several audience members grew more and more worried, until, finally, one gentleman called out for him to return the young woman he had made disappear.

The Phantom smiled and turned around, looking fully prepared to bring Leah back, but was stopped when one of his assistants came out from backstage, whispering something frantically in his ear before bowing and slinking offstage.

Returning his attention to the audience, The Phantom bowed. "Apparently my little volunteer has, if you'll excuse the pun, _vanished_ from where I sent her," he said with a smirk of amusement, inviting everyone to join in the joke.

Some laughed or giggled, but most looked concerned. Quick to assure them, The Phantom continued. "I will now send myself after her, in order to guarantee her safe return."

Flinging the box open, The Phantom stepped inside, turning to bow once more to the audience. Many applauded at this, which seemed to encourage him. With a flick of his wrist, the box closed behind him, and with a puff of smoke, he disappeared.

Minutes slipped by, and The Phantom did not reappear, nor did Leah. In spite of herself, Christine found herself growing worried, not for Leah, of course, but for The Phantom. Could the trick have gone wrong?

The audience was beginning to grow alarmed when an elderly man, clearly of Persian origins, came onto the stage. He motioned for everyone to sit and be calm, and when he had their attention, he delivered some very shocking news.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I am afraid that The Phantom is no more. He has decided to make this his final performance, and has retired from the stage with a very special young woman, namely that of the lady taken here tonight. I hope you enjoyed the show. Good night."

With that, the entire place went dark, causing the women to scream and the men to shout out in surprise. When the place suddenly lit up once more, the Persian man was gone, as was the black box.

It took some time for her to recover from the shock of what she had seen and heard, but when she did, Christine raced out of her box, down to her carriage, and screeched for the driver to take her home. As she rode down the streets of Paris, passersby could hear her cries of fury and disbelief.

* * *

**Six Months Later**: England

Sighing, I slowly rose to my feet, smiling in spite of the burden I was carrying. Well, it wasn't a burden to me, but Erik thought it might take its toll on me.

"How is the garden, my angel?" he called from where he stood in the doorway. "The roses are lovely."

I smiled and patted a handkerchief over my sweating forehead. "Thank you, though I think that has more to do with the gardener than anything else."

We both laughed as Nadir emerged from the house, rolling his eyes. "My dearest child, you have no one to praise but yourself when it comes to caring for these flowers. I always knew you had a way with plants, through your governess and mother wouldn't hear of it. They disliked the idea of you playing in the dirt and ruining your fine dresses."

Chuckling, I placed a quick kiss on his cheek. He had helped Erik steal me away from Paris, coming from where he had retired in a small town in France to do so. It was Nadir who had suggested the vanishing act for the two of us, and it was he who had decided that I would likely need 'looking after' once this was done.

"It is what Madame Giry would want," he said. "If one of us cannot watch over you, the other must do so in their place." He smirked. "If only to keep you out of trouble."

After I had dropped down through the floor of the large box onstage, I had landed atop a mound of soft mattresses under the stage, where I was shocked to find Nadir waiting for me. He had smiled, offered me his hand, and very carefully led me out of the theater using passageways built under the stage.

Once outside, Nadir told me the rest of the plan. After Erik made his escape, my beloved and I were to be put inside a pair of coffins in the back of a cart, which would then smuggle the two of us out of Paris to one of the cemeteries not far from the city. There a carriage would be waiting to take us away. Nadir would follow soon after, to avoid suspicion.

Amazingly, the plot had worked. The coffin I had been put in was filled with soft cushions, and since I was not a very tall or plump person, I did not feel the place closing it, at least not much. Therefore, I was relatively comfortable as I heard Erik climb into the other coffin, and felt the cart pull away from the theater.

Thankfully, it wasn't very long until I found myself in a dark, heavily curtained carriage, Erik wrapping his arms around me possessively and protectively as we rode away. We soon took a train to the coast, where Nadir met us at the station.

However, our journey wasn't finished yet. Erik would not rest easy until we were safely out of the country, and so I found myself aboard a ship for the first time in my life, bound for England. It wasn't until we were firmly on English soil that Erik told me of the large house he had purchased several years ago, with the intent of retiring there one day.

"I must confess to have thought of you while buying it," he had said with a smile as we rode up the drive.

Looking at the front of the house, I could understand why. The wooden trellises were covered in white roses, my favorite flower. Even now, all of our rooms had vases full of the beautiful blossoms, and at our tiny wedding in an English church, I had held a bouquet of them while a wreath of delicate white rosebuds sat upon my head.

"And how is the little one doing?" Nadir asked, placing a hand on my stomach. "You won't be able to garden much longer, unless you plan on staying firmly rooted to the ground."

Erik chuckled as I stuck my tongue out at my former guard. My husband joined us and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Doing well, I hope," he said.

Nadir nodded. "Be sure to write your mother and father about that. They will want to know when to send gifts to their grandchild." Winking, he went back inside to start supper, leaving Erik and I alone together.

Erik shook his head. "I still cannot believe they approve of our marriage," he said.

Standing on my toes, I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Well, they always liked you, and knew you would be the sort to treat me as a man should treat his wife. In his last letter, Papa told me that Madame Giry had acted out of bounds by sending you away without consulting them first. Papa also said he was sure something could have been worked out, but I suppose we'll never know."

My husband smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Well, no matter," he whispered. "I rather think this worked out for the best. And at least we won't have to worry about Christine anymore."

Heaving a contented sigh, I leaned into his shoulder as he pulled me into an embrace. It was a perfect moment for me.

"Thank you, my angel," he murmured into my hair.

I looked up at him. "For what?"

A hand drifted from my back to my belly. "For helping me create the greatest magic of all," Erik whispered.

Stretching up on tip-toe, I kissed him. Yes, indeed. Life was perfect.

* * *

AN: The end! I know, short story, but I never wanted this fic to go on for very long. Hope you all enjoyed it and will review! Keep an eye out for more stories!


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